


On the Last Day of Our World

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Angst, Bonding, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magical Bond, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 06:10:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 84,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9371660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: During a detention, Harry and Draco get locked in a strange room together overnight. When they escape the next morning, they discover they are alone. Love, angst and adventure abound as they struggle to survive in an empty world.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not even sure what to say here. I do believe this was the very first H/D fic I ever wrote. 
> 
> Huh.

**Chapter One  
Left Alone**

  
  


 

 

_On the last day of our world…we fought._

  
  


 

Harry punched the door again, wincing when his fist made impact.

"Oh, that's going to do the trick, Potter," Draco laughed sarcastically. "What's next? Harsh language?"

Harry spun around, annoyed by the bored, lazy drawl. He opened his mouth, intending to offer a scathing retort to his companion, but in the end, simply shook his head and turned back to the door.

"At least I'm doing something, Malfoy." Harry didn't turn as he spoke and his voice echoed off the large, wooden door and back into the cavernous chamber the two of them were standing in. Harry gave a heavy sigh and ran both hands through his hair before lowering them to cover his face. His next words were muffled. "Do you have any other suggestions?" He tried to keep his voice civil.

Draco didn't bother trying anything of the sort. "Are you deaf, Potter? I just said five minutes ago I didn't. Has this little adventure rattled your brain?"

Harry clenched his teeth, but didn't respond. Draco cocked his head, mildly annoyed at Harry's lack of reaction. He pushed off the dusty piece of furniture he had been leaning against and unfolded his arms from his chest. Placing then arrogantly on his hips, he called across the room to Harry's still form.

"Potter! Are you truly deaf? I asked you a question."

"Fuck off, Malfoy," Harry replied quietly without turning.

Draco frowned, feeling cheated somehow by the terse retort. "What's wrong? Can't stand the thought of missing another all-night study session with Granger? Surely by now you've resigned yourself to a handful of mediocre scores on your NEWTS. After all, one doesn't miraculously grow a brain after seven years," Draco taunted, once again leaning back against the dusty desk.

"Or a heart, apparently," Harry said softly.

Draco's face took on a pinched look. "What did you say?" he asked in a low voice.

Harry sighed again, this one ending in an amused snort. "Nothing."

Then he did turn, finally facing Draco across the dark, damp space. "We look to be stuck here until someone misses us – probably in the morning. You can be sure Filch won't be back tonight."

Draco scowled. "What's your point, Potter?"

Harry gave a sardonic smile and spread his hands in a sweeping gesture. "Make yourself comfortable, Malfoy."

Draco lifted his chin, the gesture so condescending Harry almost laughed again. Draco was nothing if not predictable. "I believe I will," he said in a haughty voice.

Spinning away, he swept his wand from the sleeve of his school robe and promptly and efficiently transformed a desk into a large four-poster bed, complete with satin sheets and a mountain of pillows. Harry smirked as Draco sauntered over and gracefully climbed onto the bed.

"Expecting company?" Harry asked.

Draco arched an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?" he asked, puzzled.

Harry began to move toward Draco, slowly measuring his steps as he approached the other boy. He saw Draco tense at this approach, but he remained reclined on his pillows.

"I meant," Harry purred as he reached the edge of the bed, "Did you create such a large bed…for a reason?" Casually, he leant against one of the posts, crossing his feet at the ankle and sinking his hands into his pockets.

Draco blushed crimson, and Harry mentally cheered at his small success.

Draco jumped from the bed and pointed his wand at Harry, nostrils flaring. "Potter – not if you were the last person on Earth," he hissed indignantly.

Harry snorted and turned away from the Slytherin, refusing to be baited. "Better get your beauty sleep." He glanced over his shoulder as he walked away. "You need it."

"Where are you going?" Draco called as Harry walked away.

"What do you care?" Harry shot back. When he reached an old, moldy couch, Harry stripped off his school robe, revealing a somewhat crumpled uniform. Taking his wand in his hand, he whispered a quiet "lumos" and started off into the dark.

"Potter!" Draco yelled. "I said, where in the hells are you going?" Harry grinned at the touch of panic in the other boy's voice.

He continued walking away, not even pausing when he sensed the other boy come up beside him. "I didn't know you cared, Draco," Harry teased as he moved cautiously through the huge room. He heard Draco snort beside him.

"Don't flatter yourself, Potter. Dumbledore would never forgive me if I let anything happen to you," Draco snarled.

Harry shook his head. He didn't reply, hoping his silence would once again irk the other boy – he loved annoying Draco. Instead, he moved forward, holding his wand out in front of him like a beacon. The meager light from his spell did little to dispel the gloom around them, and in fact, threw menacing shadows in all directions, giving the long abandoned chamber a sinister look.

Harry's attention was drawn to a soft glow from up ahead, and at first he didn't hear Draco's comment, spoken almost directly into his ear. "I will repeat myself once more, and I hope you would have the decency to at least answer me this time. What are you going?"

Harry smiled in the dark. Draco's tone was nearly apologetic. Well, as nearly as it could be, he supposed, considering who was speaking. "I just wanted to see what else was in here," he answered in a normal tone, smiling wickedly when Draco jumped at the loudness of his voice.

"You are an evil bastard, Potter," Draco said. With surprise, Harry noted a distinct lack of malice in the words. Not wanting to shatter the fragile peace, he replied in an even, non-confrontational tone.

"No, Malfoy, that would be you, remember?"

When Harry heard an answering snicker in the dark, he let the half-formed smile on his face bloom into a full-fledged grin. Beside him, Draco shifted and Harry could see him raise a hand and point through the gloom. "What's that?" he asked, pointing toward the faint light Harry has seen earlier.

Harry shrugged before remembering that Draco couldn't really see him. "I don't know," he said. "Let's go see."

He started forward again, not waiting to see if Draco would follow. Despite the tentative peace of the past five minutes, he was still blaming Draco for their predicament. If the other boy hadn't picked the fight in the first place, he would be studying in the library instead of serving this absurd detention with Filch. Therefore, he felt perfectly justified in making Draco uncomfortable. But when he stepped out from behind the tall cupboard that had been blocking his view of the light, he forgot all about his juvenile vendetta.

He felt, more than heard Draco's sharp gasp from behind him as the other boy caught up with him.

"It's beautiful," Draco whispered with awe in his voice.

Harry agreed. The light shone from the ceiling, the source unknown, and illuminated a perfect circle on the stone floor. It was a brilliant, glowing silver, and it glittered with thousands of tiny sparks.

Reluctantly, he turned away, which put him face to face with Draco. "Whatever it is, it's locked up in here for a reason. I don't think we should get any closer," Harry said.

Draco laughed, the sound vibrating through the chamber. "Afraid of a little light, Potter?" He grinned and his white teeth flashed in the dark. "And here I thought you were its servant," he goaded.

"Sod off, Malfoy!" Harry shot back. "At least I walk in the light, instead of leaving a trail of slime through the shadows."

Draco snarled and drew his wand on the other boy. "If I were you, I wouldn't speak about things you know nothing about."

"I know enough, ferret!"

Harry knew the situation was fast spiraling out of hand, but as was usual around Draco, his temper flared with very little help. He stepped back and raised his own wand, the flagging light from its tip showing the growing anger in his eyes. "Don't deny it. You serve that monster like your father before you. You are as wicked as he was, and one day it will be your downfall."

As soon as the words were loosed, Harry wished to have them back. Often, anger over Sirius's death still haunted him, and any mention of Lucius Malfoy brought the pain of the incident back tenfold. Still, it was no excuse to be intentionally cruel – even to Draco.

He lowered his wand, fully intending to apologize, when Draco struck. For whatever reason, the other boy didn't rely on magic for his attack. Instead, he launched himself at Harry. Growling, he tackled Harry and sent them both crashing to the cold, stone floor.

Harry felt the air forced from his lungs as they hit the ground, and was so intent on catching his breath, he at first didn't notice where they had landed. A sharp blow to the side of his face brought his attention back to the fight. He opened his eyes to see Draco straddling him, his fist raised for another blow. Harry caught his breath, all thoughts of the confrontation immediately flying from his mind.

The light from the ceiling surrounded Draco, creating a halo of light around his form that was breathtaking in its intensity. As Harry watched, dumbstruck, he saw Draco falter. The other boy was breathing heavily, face flushed with anger, but his fist never fell. Draco cocked his head in confusion, and his voice, when he spoke, sounded far away.

"Beautiful," he muttered as he took in the sight of Harry below him, surrounded by the glowing light.

How long they stayed there, they were never able to determine. But finally, Harry blinked, and reason came rushing back.

"Shit! Draco, we're in that light!" Harry began bucking underneath Draco. "Move!"

At first, there was no response. Then, Draco blinked, and horror dawned on his face. Swinging his leg back over Harry, he grabbed Harry's hand in his as he rolled away, dragging the other boy with him off the floor and out of the circle of light. They both stood, breathing heavily as they took the other's measurement.

Harry spoke first. "I feel okay. How about you?" he asked, voice still breathless.

Draco looked down at his hands, fisted at his sides. He raised them, inspecting them closely before he noticed how they were shaking. He clenched his jaw and dropped them from in front of his face, choosing to wrap them around himself as he stared at Harry.

"I feel fine, too," he answered. "Just a little rattled," he continued in a rare show of honesty.

Harry nodded. "Me too." He turned back to the mysterious light once more. "Enough exploring. Let's get some sleep."

Draco fell into step beside Harry as they made their way back to the front of the room. "For once, Potter, I agree with you. And I'm having a talk with my Head of House in the morning about detentions in this part of the castle. It's clearly not safe."

"Used to playing it safe, Malfoy?"

Draco mouth twisted up, a bitter smile gracing his lips. "You have no idea, Potter."

And with that, the conversation ended.

The next morning, Harry was awakened by a rough shake. "Potter, get up."

Harry groaned and rolled over. The night before he had transfigured an empty packing crate into a bed, but the pain in his back this morning was a clear indication that his transfiguration skills were quite rusty.

Cracking an eye, he saw Draco standing above him – looking perfectly groomed, not a hair or article of clothing out of place. "How the hell do you do that?" Harry wondered aloud.

Draco smirked and ripped the blankets off of Harry's huddled form. "It's superior breeding, Potter. One benefit of the Malfoy genes."

"Ah," Harry said as he sat up, rubbing a lazy hand over his stomach. "No worries then. Seeing as I wasn't spawned from the devil himself."

Draco's jaw clenched, but surprisingly, he held his tongue. "Are you getting up, Potter? I have an idea."

Harry yawned. "How timely."

Draco scowled at him. Tossing the transfigured blankets to the floor, he summoned Harry's discarded shoes with his wand. When they came soaring through the air to bang the other boy in the head, Draco laughed softly. Harry graced him with a dirty look as he rubbed the back of his head, and Draco chuckled again. "Get up, boy wonder. I want out of here."

"What a novel idea. Did you wake feeling inspired?" Harry groused as he put on his shoes and straightened his clothes.

Draco sighed and leaned back against one of the pieces of abandoned furniture. Gracing Harry with a thoughtful look, he replaced his wand in his sleeve and crossed his arms over his chest. "I was thinking, Potter."

"Of course you were," Harry replied as he fumbled with his shoes.

Draco ignored the snide comment. "I was thinking, if we combined our power, an unlocking spell might overpower the wards on the door."

Harry finished with his shoes and stood to face Draco. He rubbed his eyes roughly a few times before donning his glasses, and then ran his fingers through his hair, trying to flatten it. Draco just shook his head at the useless gesture. "Don't bother, Potter."

Harry shrugged and began buttoning up his school robes. "I bow to your superior wisdom."

"The world will be a better place."

Harry just rolled his eyes and pulled his wand from his pocket. "Let's get on with it, then."

As one, the boys walked to the door. The same door that had slammed closed last night never to reopen despite both of Harry and Draco's best and most powerful charms.

Harry blamed the entire incident on Filch for sending them down there in the first place. Still, he thought, he had spent many less pleasant detentions under the man's watchful eye. He supposed sleeping with Malfoy for one night wasn't as bad as it could have been.

"Ready, Potter?"

Harry nodded and both boys gathered their energy and focused their wands on the door. Together they yelled.

"Alohamora!"

The door actually bulged at the center, the wards resisting the unlocking charm, before it flew open to crash against the wall.

Draco smirked as he pocketed his wand. "There now, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Harry just hummed in acknowledgment before pushing past and starting down the dark hall.

"Your welcome, Potter!" Draco yelled from behind him, and Harry grinned. Without turning he simply raised a hand and gave a farewell wave. As he moved further down the corridor, trying to remember the way to the nearest staircase, he heard Draco yell again.

"It's been fun. Let's do this again sometime." The yell was followed by a more soft-spoken, "Ignorant prat."

Harry snickered as he found the slimy stone steps they had descended last night and bounded up them two at a time. The entire unpleasant evening faded from his mind as he thought about a hot shower and fresh clothes. Merlin willing, there would time for both before breakfast.

In fact, he was so distracted by these thoughts, that when he finally reached the landing and the portrait that guarded the Gryffindor Common Room, he babbled the password without so much as looking at the Fat Lady. It was only when the portrait didn't swing open right away that he glanced up, annoyed at the delay.

His annoyance grew when he saw the Fat Lady wasn't even in her painting. "Bloody hell," he muttered. He knocked loudly, hoping someone would be in the Common Room. Even after several attempts, however, there was no answer.

Harry groaned. He dropped his head into his hands and shifted uncomfortably in his rumpled uniform. Frustration getting the better of him, he stepped up to the portrait and yelled as loud as he could.

"If someone's in there, open the damn door!"

As his voice echoed through the hall, fading slowly, Harry felt a cold prickling at the base of his spine. When silence once again settled around him, the prickling became more pronounced, crawling up his back to settle over his shoulders. He shivered.

Harry turned slowly in a circle, and strained his ears for any sound. As the seconds passed and the eerie silence continued, Harry wrapped his arms around himself, and struggled to control his irrational panic.

Removing his wand from his pocket, he swished it weakly in the air. "Tempus," he said, frowning when his voice emerged weak and throaty from his lips.

In the air, a wispy clock appeared. The hands read ten minutes past eight o'clock.. Harry's frown grew even more pronounced. Past eight o'clock in the morning, he thought. Even on a Saturday, like today, there should be someone up and moving about the castle. And yet the silence was complete, and to Harry, actually seemed to carry weight. His breathing sped up, becoming shallow as the air seemed to press down around him.

Harry gulped and mentally chastised himself for his fear. If a little situation like this unnerved him so much, how would he ever face Voldemort?

With that thought, lightning quick into his mind flashed the idea that perhaps the silence had evil roots. Was it possible something had happened while he and Draco had been stuck in the old storage room?

Feeling more in control, but no less worried, Harry turned away from the portrait and made his way back down the stairs. He had only descended one flight before he found himself running.

His headlong flight ended at the Great Hall, and for the first time since he had fled Gryffindor Tower nearly five minutes ago, Harry stopped to listen. He closed his eyes and concentrated on _nothing_ but listening. After a long thirty seconds, he opened his eyes. His gaze fell on the doors of the Great Hall, open and normally inviting. This morning, however, they looked like open jaws on a great monster, and he resisted approaching them right away.

Instead, he waited outside, arms once again wrapped around himself, the unconscious gesture a testament to his feelings of vulnerability, and studied the situation again. At eight o-clock in the morning on a Saturday, the Great Hall should be bustling with noisy activity. But not a single sound, save his quiet breathing, could be heard.

Harry closed his eyes, feeling a headache bloom behind them. He simply could not understand his sudden overpowering fear. The situation was unusual, yes, but he had yet to actually find anything wrong. That he could see, at any rate. Gathering his courage, he started off across the room, his strides purposeful, and entered the Great Hall.

It was completely empty.

Not a single bowl, cup or plate graced the long tables. The torches burned, but with little energy – the way they normally would through the night. Still, the silence reigned, thick and more terrifying than the most deafening sound. Harry debated calling out again, as he had outside Gryffindor Tower, but held his voice at the last second.

Childhood fears rose up in his mind, and perhaps irrationally, he resisted doing something that would draw attention to himself – something that would possibly draw the fearsome beast responsible for the empty, silent castle.

He was, in fact, so wrapped up in the mystery, that when a hand descended on his shoulder, he screamed and jumped. He spun around, whipped his wand from his pocket and brandished it menacingly.

"By all the gods, Potter…. It's me."

It was at that moment that Harry felt something he had never experienced. Relief – at seeing Draco Malfoy.

Upon closer inspection, however, Draco looked no better that Harry. His complexion, usually pale and flawless, was pasty. And two bright spots of color graced his cheeks. His eyes nearly bulged from their sockets.

"Isn't–isn't there anyone here, either?" he asked in a quiet, shaky voice.

Still too overwhelmed to speak, Harry just shook his head. He turned back to the empty hall, and both boys took several seconds to peruse the strange scene.

Finally, Harry turned to Draco. He was pleased when his voice sounded steady, even if he did whisper. "We should check Dumbledore's office," he said.

Draco nodded, but his eyes never stopped scanning the Great Hall, as though a closer inspection would change what he was seeing. When Harry touched his arm, he startled. Harry refrained from commenting on Draco's uneasiness. Instead, he merely tugged gently on his arm and led him out of the Hall.

They didn't speak as they walked the short distance to the stone gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's office. Both were lost in thought over the strange circumstances of the morning. When they reached the door, Harry paused and pursed his lips.

Draco only waited a few seconds before prodding him. "Well, Potter?"

Harry sighed and turned to Draco. "I'm not sure of the password, and frankly I'm not sure it'll work at all. The portrait that guards Gryffindor Tower is gone. In fact, all the portraits seem to be gone. I just don't–."

Draco laid a soothing hand on Harry' shoulder as his words trailed off. "The password to the Slytherin Common Room worked," he said. "We don't have a portrait guard. I got in just fine." His hand slipped from Harry's shoulder. "But there was no one there."

Neither seemed to realize their voices had not risen above a whisper since they had met up in the Great Hall. Harry wondered if Draco just didn't want to break the silence, or if he too was suffering from Harry's paranoia.

Knowing a series of educated guesses was their best bet, Harry began rattling off the names of candies and sweets. When he had exhausted his repertoire, Draco tried a few of his own. But the gargoyle never budged. Harry was about to turn away in frustration, when Draco caught his arm.

"Look," he whispered, his voice low and raspy. He pointed to the edge of the door, and for the first time, Harry noticed it was already slightly open. The cold tendrils of fear that began high in the castle outside the Gryffindor Common Room, and had been residing along his spine and shoulders, now spread down his arms, raising the small hairs there, and down over his chest before coming together in a tight coil over his stomach.

Never. That was exactly how many times Harry had seen this door opened yet unguarded. And he was willing to bet this was the first time it had been that way.

He felt Draco move closer and place a steadying hand around his upper arm. "We don't know anything yet, Harry," he said. "Stay focused."

Harry basked in the support for a few seconds before locking eyes with Draco and nodding once in thanks. Then, hesitation gone, he pushed inward on the gargoyle to reveal the staircase. As they stepped onto the stairs, they began to move, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief at that one element of normalcy. He managed to hold on to that feeling until the cold and obviously empty office at the top came into view.

Neither Harry nor Draco stepped off the last stair and entered the office proper. Neither could bring themselves to. As large and empty as Hogwarts was at that moment, it could not compare to the abandoned desolation of the Headmaster's office. Harry's eyes moved to Fawkes's perch, and noticed that the phoenix was missing as well. As they stood there, searching from the doorway for some clue, Harry felt the first real peals of alarm begin to sound in his mind.

"This is not right," he muttered to himself.

Next to him, Draco snorted. "What was your first clue?"

Harry spun around, a reply ready on his lips, but the sight of Draco, pale and shaking next to him, dried up the scathing retort. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"No, Potter," Draco ground out between clenched teeth. "I'm not all right. I want to know what in the hells is going on here!" The last was shouted and Harry winced as Draco's voice echoed down the stairs and probably out into the hall below.

"Keep your voice down," Harry hissed before he could stop himself. Draco stared at him open-mouthed.

"Why should I?" he shot back.

Why indeed, Harry thought. And yet he couldn't shake the feeling, the overpowering feeling, that they should remain inconspicuous. To cover his fear, he fell back on anger. "Just shut it, you idiot."

Draco, taken aback by Harry's sudden outburst, backpedaled. Although it was their habit to bicker, he was smart enough to know cooperation would be needed if the two of them were going to find out what had happened. "Calm down, Harry," he said, lowering his voice.

Draco was scared. And he was willing to bet that as brave as Harry was, and Draco knew that he was, that the Boy-Who-Lived was equally frightened by what was happening. He reached down to take one of Harry's cool hands in his. "Calm down," he repeated.

Harry responded immediately to Draco's voice, relaxing his stance, and Draco breathed a mental sigh of relief. "Let's get out of here," Harry whispered and Draco agreed instantly.

At the main doors of the castle, Draco hesitated. But Harry stepped up beside him, and Draco, strangely, took courage from his presence. "What now?" Harry asked.

"Let's try outside. Then – Hogsmeade. There's bound to be someone there who knows what's going on," Draco said.

They shared a long, thoughtful glance and then, without a word, pushed the door open revealing the bright sunlight of the morning.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two  
Hogsmeade**

  
  
  


 

Harry and Draco stood at the top of the great stone steps that led to the main doors of the castle. From there, they had a panoramic view of the surrounding grounds. Even on a weekday, when classes were in session, the grounds were normally abuzz with activity. Groups of students should have been visible around the greenhouses where Herbology was held as well as around the lake, where many chose to spend their free time between classes.

And on a Saturday, on a beautiful spring morning such as this, it would not be unusual to find the majority of the student body outside, soaking up the long-missed warmth of the sun. But today, there was no one.

"Nothing seems out of place," Harry murmured to himself as he and Draco looked around. Draco turned to him, scowling.

"Nothing seems out of place? Have you been nibbling on Madame Sprout's glosh weed?" Draco turned back to the vast empty lawn. "What do you call this?' he asked, gesturing toward the silent vista.

"What I meant," Harry said. "Was that there aren't any signs that there was a battle." His brow furrowed in thought, and he started down the stairs as he continued to speak. "No charred grass from wayward spells or hexes, no smoke, no dark magic signatures…no bodies."

Draco blanched. "No bodies? My, aren't you cheerful. How do you know Dumbledore didn't invite everyone down to Hogsmeade for a butterbeer?"

Harry turned back to look at Draco, disbelief shining in his eyes. "Draco? Am I going to have to be the voice of reason, here, or are you going to pull it together."

"Did you just call me 'Draco'?"

"No."

"Yes, you did."

Harry stood on the bottom step and stared up at Draco, lips pursed. "Can we focus here?" he asked.

Draco threw his hands in the air and laughed hysterically. "I'm focused. I'm TOO focused." He dropped his hands and jogged down the stairs to stand next to Harry. "You know what? I'm going to Hogsmeade."

Harry couldn't help but notice the nervous tension pouring off Draco or his over bright eyes as he passed Harry and started down the road. Harry just shook his head and started after him. When he caught up, they walked silently side by side for a few minutes.

After a while, Draco glanced at Harry out of the corner of his eye. "Sorry about that," he mumbled.

Harry could have ridiculed Draco for his fear. Instead, he just shrugged and thanked the gods the other boy seemed to be on even footing again.

When Harry remained silent, Draco glanced suspiciously toward his companion. "Did you hear me, Potter?" he asked.

Harry smiled. "I heard you, Malfoy. Don't worry about it."

Draco's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he turned away without commenting. As the boys circled the lake and approached the Hogsmeade Station, they moved closer together, almost unconsciously, until their arms were bushing together with every step. Both noticed, but neither moved away.

The Hogsmeade town sign swung listlessly from its chains on a gentle spring breeze. Harry and Draco stopped where the railroad tracks crossed the road leading into town. From there, they could barely see the roof of The Three Broomsticks over the next rise.

The station was deserted.

Harry blew out a shaky breath. Hogwarts could be classified as spooky on the best of days, but the same could not be said for the bustling town of Hogsmeade. In fact, Harry could think of nothing less malevolent than the little hamlet, especially on such a crisp and clear morning.

And yet the hair on Harry's arms and the back of his neck was standing straight on end, and the clack-clack of the small wooden sign hitting its post as it swung in the breeze chilled him to the bone. He felt an overwhelming urge to turn around and run back to the castle.

"What the fuck…." Draco whispered next to him. The boys turned to glance at each other, and oddly their flagging courage was renewed by that one shared look. Draco looked down at the tracks, imbedded into the cobblestones of the road. He seemed reluctant to cross them.

Harry moved close again, relishing everything about Draco at that moment. The sound of his breathing, the warmth leeching off his body – even his scent was comforting. He had never felt both more and less alone than he did in that split second.

"Ready, Potter?" Draco asked without looking up.

Harry just nodded. Draco swept his hand forward in an inviting gesture. "Age before beauty."

Harry snorted and stepped forward onto the tracks. "Courage before cowardice, is more like it," he muttered.

"I heard that."

"Good."

When Draco seemed satisfied that no phantom train was going to come barreling out of thin air to strike them down, he joined Harry and they crossed over the tracks and started towards the town.

As they crested the small rise and The Three Broomsticks came into view, Harry caught his breath. The road stretched out in front of them, and they could see all the way into town to where the road curved slightly at the Post Office.

The street was empty.

Harry stopped short, too disturbed by the sight to move forward any further. Distantly, he heard harsh, shallow breathing, before he realized it was his own. His vision narrowed to the long street ahead and spots began to blink in his peripheral vision. Then, Draco was there.

"Easy, Harry," he said, slipping an arm around Harry's narrow waist and steadying him. The physical contact had the desired effect, and Harry's vision cleared. "Merlin," he gasped, leaning on Draco. "Sorry."

"Don't be," Draco replied. "I understand. Do me a favor, though, let's do this spacing out thing on a rotating basis. Otherwise, I might run screaming for the hills."

"Right," Harry said, feeling steadier by the second. "It's your turn next," he said, trying for some humor.

"And don't think I'll forget it."

"Hey," Harry said as they started down the hill. "Did you just call me Harry?"

"No."

Harry turned, amused at the bald-faced lie in time to see Draco's lips twitch once.

The next several minutes passed in silence as they approached the first building. When The Three Broomsticks loomed on their right, Harry stopped and turned to Draco.

"Coming in?" he asked.

"Hell, no!"

"Why not? Maybe they're all having that butterbeer you suspected. Only…very quietly," Harry goaded. Draco clamped his mouth shut, refusing to react, but Harry's own obvious mirth was too much. Both boys sputtered in amusement as that particular picture was painted in their heads.

Draco recovered himself first. "You're certifiable," he said.

"That's why I'm going in to look."

Draco sighed in frustration. "Fine," he said and joined Harry as he approached the door.

Harry looked over in amusement. "I thought you were waiting outside."

"I'm not letting you out of my sight, Potter."

That suited Harry just fine. Together, they pushed the door open.

Inside, the tables were littered with glasses – some empty, but most partially full. Bottles of Firewhiskey littered the bar, where another couple dozen glasses sat. But no one was drinking from them – at least at the moment.

"Well, that explains it," Draco ventured, his voice low. "Everyone's passed out somewhere," he said absently as he fingered an abandoned mug of butterbeer on a nearby table.

"Time to go," Harry said absently as his eyes drifted over the room.

"Go where, Potter? Do you really think we're going to find anyone?"

Harry turned to Draco and regarded him thoughtfully before taking him by the arm and steering him out of The Three Broomsticks. Draco sighed impatiently, but allowed himself to be guided back through the room and out the door.

The bright sunlight made both boys squint, and they paused on the threshold while their eyes adjusted.

"Come on," Harry said and they set off again down the street toward the Post Office. They walked close together for some time before Draco halted suddenly. Harry was brought up short by the unexpected stop.

"What?" he asked quietly, the need to whisper reasserting itself.

Draco turned to Harry with a worried look. "Do you think we should check one of the houses?"

Harry chewed his lip in thought. Of course, his rational mind supplied. That's exactly what they should do. But his instincts were screaming for them to stay in the open, not become trapped in an enclosed space. Harry felt a warm, fragrant breeze blow over his face, its pure sweetness clashing with his dark thoughts.

He nodded once and didn't hesitate to follow Draco when he chose a house on the left side of the street and started up the flagstone walk. When Draco raised his hand to knock on the door, Harry flinched in anticipation of the noise, which would surely echo loudly in the quiet morning. He noticed Draco hesitate as well before his knuckles rapped on the wood.

No one answered.

But the chirping of the insects quieted as soon as Draco lowered his hand. Harry glanced uneasily around the small front garden, but could see nothing sinister and lurking. But he swore he could feel it.

Draco reached for the doorknob, and Harry's hand shot out to grab his wrist. "What are you doing?" he hissed.

Draco jerked his hand from Harry angrily, and reached again for the knob. "I'm going in. Maybe there's some sort of clue inside."

"No," Harry grabbed Draco's hand again.

Draco's lip curled up in disgust. "What is your problem?" he asked. "You were willing to traipse through The Three Broomsticks."

"That was a business! This is someone's home!"

"They'll never know we were here, Potter," Draco assured him.

And before Harry could protest again, Draco had stepped inside the small cottage. Harry swore under his breath and followed.

"Well," Draco said, as the boys looked around the kitchen, the only room they had yet to investigate. "Whatever is was, it happened during dinner."

Harry gulped and looked at the table, set for four. The food was still waiting to be served. As he pondered, he saw Draco snatch a couple of rolls from the table.

"What are you doing?" he gasped.

"I'm starving!" Draco said around a mouthful of bread. "Here." He handed Harry the second one he had taken.

"How can you eat at a time like this?" Harry asked, shocked.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Do you know how cliché that sounds? And we haven't eaten since yesterday lunch. We missed dinner for detention, remember?" Draco cocked his head and watched Harry as he chewed. "You're not hungry?" he asked, mouth still full.

"No!"

Draco sighed and rolled his eyes again. "Now I know how you keep that girlish figure."

Harry blushed. "What?"

Draco stopped chewing and squinted at Harry. "Are you blushing?"

Harry blushed even more furiously and turned away, mortified by his reaction.

Draco called from behind him. "Harry?"

"Shut it, Malfoy."

Draco shrugged and popped the other roll into his mouth. He boosted himself up onto the sideboard and crossed his legs casually. But his eyes were contemplative as he watched Harry.

"Have you finished your breakfast?" Harry asked a few minutes later. Draco smiled when he detected anger leaking though the polite words.

"I believe so."

"Brilliant." Harry started back through the house without looking back. "Then let's go."

Draco lagged behind a bit as he considered what might have set the other boy off. He still hadn't figured it out when he caught up with Harry at the front door. Harry was staring at the sky, a thoughtful look on his face. Absently, he raised a hand and pushed the hair off his forehead, out of his eyes.

Draco watched his face, recalling how Harry had looked a few minutes ago, cheeks pink with…what? Draco still hadn't figured it out. But for some strange reason, he quite suddenly wanted to know what had caused the rosy blush. Process of elimination, he thought with a smirk. Just as he opened his mouth to begin baiting the other boy, Harry spoke.

"Draco?"

"That's the second time you've used my first name this morning. Perhaps you should check into St. Mungo's for a thorough exam."

Either Harry didn't hear the taunt, or it didn't register with him, because he didn't turn. Instead, he pointed out the door towards the sun, which was hanging low in the sky.

"What time do you think it is?"

Draco rolled his eyes, and pulled his wand from his pocket. "Honestly, Potter. Will you never remember you're a wizard?" Flicking his wand in the air, he asked for the time. "Tempus." The misty clock appeared in front of them. Draco frowned.

"Well, that can't be correct," he muttered.

Harry glanced over. "Three-thirty? That seems about right," he said.

Draco vanished the clock and gaped at Harry in disbelief. "That seems right?"

"You're repeating yourself an awful lot today, Malfoy."

"No, I'm repeating YOU an awful lot today. What in the hells do you mean it seems right? We've been away from the castle for only an hour. Two at the most."

Harry turned to Draco and the other boy paled at the fear in the deep, green eyes. "Yes, I know," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "But look at the sun? It couldn't be more than an hour from setting."

Draco almost didn't, but concluded that would be childish, so he too turned to look, noticing right away that the strength of the rays shining in his eyes were easily half the strength they were when they exited The Three Broomsticks. Now, panic settled heavily onto his shoulders. Empty castle? He was sure there was an explanation. Empty Hogsmeade? A little bit more difficult to swallow, but still plausible. Time speeding up so that a full day lasted less than three hours? Something was very wrong and Draco wanted to know what it was. Immediately.

"Onward and Upward, Potter," he said, not bothering to try to cover the tremble in his voice.

Harry nodded and they hastily made their way back to the street, once again turning left towards the main part of town. Draco's steps were faster than before, and Harry had to jog more than once to catch up.

"Merlin, Malfoy. Slow down."

"Stop dawdling, Potter."

"I don't want to lose sight of you!" Harry said, louder, and Draco looked back to see the shadows multiply as dusk settled on the tiny town. Fear jumping into his throat, he fell back on his ever-faithful malice.

"You want me to hold your hand, too , Potter?" he spat.

"Actually, yes. That would make me feel better," Harry said breathlessly from beside him.

"Don't hold your breath."

"Wasn't planning on it."

By the time they had reached the Post Office and Honeydukes opposite it, the shadows were becoming so long, they began to hide the small niches in between buildings and in doorways. Beside Draco, Harry was panting slightly. Partly, Draco decided from keeping up with Draco's punishing pace. But also partly, he suspected, from the same sense of horror that was creeping up his own throat.

"Let's get off the street," Harry said, and even though Draco agreed, habit dictated he should argue.

"Why? Scared, Potter?"

"Yes. And the training's kicking in. We shouldn't be out in the open like this when it's getting dark. Now is when it's most difficult to see an attacker."

Draco raised an eyebrow. It was the truth, he knew. His father had taught him the same thing. "How do you know that?" he asked as he followed Harry to the sidewalk outside Honeydukes.

"Severus."

Draco's mouth dropped open in surprise. "Really?" he said, suspicious.

"Yes."

Draco shook his head in confusion. "How…."

"Later, Malfoy. Get inside." Harry pushed the door to Honeydukes open and shoved Draco inside. Turning back to the door, he fastened the lock, securing it with an unbreakable charm. Then, pulling Draco by the arm, he hauled him none too gently towards the back of the store, behind the counters, before kicking Draco's feet out from underneath him and forcing him to the floor.

"Gods, Potter! Unhand me! There's nobody out there, remember?"

Harry turned to him with a frustrated sigh. "You don't know that, Malfoy." He turned his attention back to the large picture window that graced the front of the shop. "Better safe than sorry," he said softly.

"You really are paranoid," Draco complained as he rubbed his hip, which he had bumped against the counter when Harry pushed him down.

Harry laughed softly and shook his head. "I've got an excellent reason," was all he said.

Draco opened his mouth, retort ready, but quickly snapped it shut again. Watching Harry as the other boy scanned the rapidly darkening street from his post, Draco realized that Harry was right. He had more reason than just about anyone.

Is this what it was like, he thought. Living in fear everyday, constantly vigilant, and never being able to let your guard down. Draco found himself looking at Harry with more…respect…than he ever had before. Current fucked up situation aside, Draco had never faced death head-on, as he knew Harry had. And yet, the Gryffindor remained optimistic. Cheerful even, at most times. Licking his lips, Draco discovered he found this side of the Boy-Who-Lived compelling.

Scooting to the wall and leaning back against it, Draco asked a question of his silent sentry. "Plan on staying there long, Potter?"

"All night, if need be."

"Perfect, that should be about two hours then."

Harry snorted and briefly turned his attention from the street. "If you're tired, you should rest," he said.

Draco lifted his hands and linked them behind his head. He favored that position, Harry noticed. "How could I be tired? We only got up three hours ago," he drawled.

"Well," Harry answered as he turned back to the window. "We've been through quite a bit since then. I thought you might be tired. It's a natural reaction to…"

"…stress. Yes, I know." Draco continued to gaze at Harry until the other boy turned back in exasperation.

"What?" he asked.

"What?" Draco responded.

"Why are you staring at me?" Harry asked, irritated.

Draco smiled. "Does it make you uncomfortable?" he asked.

Harry sighed. "No." He captured his lower lip and worried it with his teeth as he scanned the now pitch black night beyond the window. Draco sat patiently for ten minutes before he was bored beyond belief. He would have welcomed an attack at that point, the silence was so deep and heavy.

Draco smiled as a plan formed in his head. Never let it be said a Malfoy couldn't entertain himself with what he had at hand. Sliding forward on the floor, he flashed an innocent smile at Harry when the other boy glanced back toward the movement.

When Harry's attention was once again on the street, Draco slid directly up behind him and laid his hands on the Gryffindor's shoulders. Harry nearly jumped out of his pants, and Draco couldn't stop the amused peals of laughter from exploding through his lips. Out of deference to Harry's phantom assassins, however, he kept them as muted as possible.

"Relax, boy wonder."

"What are you doing, Malfoy?" Harry hissed.

"Merely testing the waters," Draco mumbled as he began gently massaging Harry's shoulders.

"What?"

"Never mind. Just enjoy." Draco deepened the rubs, working his thumbs over the very tip of Harry's spine. "You're awfully tense," Draco mentioned conversationally.

"I can't imagine why," Harry shot back, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"Take your own advice, Potter. Relax a bit. If something was going to happen, it would have already."

Harry had to grudgingly admit that was probably the case, but he still refused to budge from his watchful position on the floor. However, as the minutes passed, and Draco's hands worked tiny miracles on the knots in his neck and shoulder muscles, Harry let his eyes slip closed. Sometime later, he felt Draco's fingers sliding across his neck and then over his cheeks.

Harry sighed, and the touches grew bolder, sliding over his forehead and around his eyes before gliding feather-soft across his lips. Despite everything, Harry felt the first flickering of arousal coil in his belly.

"Draco," he said huskily.

"Mmmmm," came the reply.

"I thought you said, not even if I were the last person on Earth."

"I think you might be."

Harry sighed and opened his eyes. The sky outside was growing lighter with frightening speed. "Morning already," he said and the hands stilled. Draco sat back on his heels and looked in consternation at the new dawn.

"That's a bit annoying," he said as he pushed up off the floor and took a closer look as the darkness outside resolved itself into Hogsmeade's main street. This morning looked to be as beautiful and sunny as the last. "Let's not spend another night here," Draco said.

"That suits me fine," Harry replied as he got up from the floor and dusted off his jeans. "Let's get moving then," he said.

The boys walked out into the bright morning sun, which had already dried the thin layer of dew from the grasses of front yards and the flowers of planter boxes. They ventured down the street, walking once again shoulder to shoulder, hands brushing.

They passed Zonkos and Gladrags. At Zonkos, Draco tried the door and found it open. At the sight of the mischief-making items within, Harry saw his eyes light up. Groaning, Harry dragged him back into the street. "Not another night, remember?" he reminded Draco.

Once again, just one building down, he had to actually stop Draco from window-shopping at Glad Rags. Draco appeared to be distracting himself from the emptiness of the town and the puzzling time paradox by pretending all was normal, but it just wasn't doing the trick for Harry. When they reached the turn-off for the Hog's Head, Harry stopped in his tracks and refused to move any further.

"There's no one here, Draco."

"I will not even grace that statement with a response." Draco huffed as he turned in a slow circle, searching for any sign of life.

"I don't want to spend another night here, either," Harry pressed. "We need a plan."

Draco stopped his inspection of the surrounding buildings and turned to Harry. For a moment, neither one of them spoke, and the eerie quiet of the surrounding buildings pressed in, edging their growing panic up a notch. The town, Draco noticed, didn't seem sinister if he and Harry kept up a running dialogue. But strangely, as soon as they fell silent, the emptiness of the place became suffocating.

"I have a plan," Draco said. "I'm going home."

Harry blanched. "Draco, you can't go home." He stepped closer, putting his hand on Draco's shoulder as he spoke, pleading.

"I most certainly can. And I will." Draco looked affronted. He swept his cloak from over his arm where he had been carrying it, and threw it over his shoulders, dislodging Harry's hand. "I can do anything I like, Potter."

"Draco," Harry almost yelled. "I can't go to Malfoy Manor!"

"Why ever not?"

"Your father wants me dead!" Harry yelled, aghast.

Draco's jaw clenched and his eyes turned icy. "My father, Potter, is rotting in Azkaban. Thanks to you."

Harry gulped when he saw Draco's expression go cold. "We can't split up," he insisted.

Draco snorted and turned away, doing up the buttons of his cloak. Harry felt the beginnings of a true panic. "Draco," he pleaded. "We don't know what happened. Maybe it's Voldemort. I can't just go waltzing into the Manor. It goes against everything I've been taught." He gave one hysterical laugh, spread his arms out, and turned in a circle.

"Shit, Draco. Maybe none of this is real. Maybe we're dreaming." When he spun back around to face the other boy, Draco's fist struck him in the face, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Harry looked up incredulously, only to find Draco standing directly over him – smirking.

"What the hell was that for?" Harry asked, too shocked to do much except raise himself up onto his elbows and carefully maneuver his jaw back and forth.

Draco shrugged. "To prove you weren't dreaming," he said smugly.

Harry scowled at him from the ground, and almost brushed Draco's offered assistance aside as he struggled to his feet. In the end, though, he accepted the helping hand.

"Prat," Harry growled as he performed a more thorough inspection of his bruised jaw.

"Oh, please!" Draco sneered. "How could I resist an opening like that. Honestly, how often do I get a valid reason to hit you. No. Wait. That would be everyday. What I mean is, how often do you ask for it so guilelessly." Draco snorted in disgust and walked to the center of the street. Harry noticed the other boy's shadow was stretched out far behind him. Glancing up, he saw the sun sinking low in the sky.

"Draco," he tried once more, reaching a hand out to the other boy. "Please don't go. We should stay together."

"I'm going home, Potter. Are you coming or not?"

Harry sighed and dropped his hand back to his side. "I can't, Draco," he whispered.

Draco lifted his chin, but the haughty gesture did nothing to hide the fear in his eyes. "Suit yourself," he said, and disappeared with a sharp crack.

Harry stood alone in the street for several minutes before the rapidly darkening night forced him inside.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three  
The Endless Night**

  
  
  


 

Harry spent the night in an empty house. He had chosen it randomly, not worried about much except getting off the street. He crouched in the corner of a cozy living room where he had an unobstructed view of the street. At this point, he agreed with Draco that he wasn't the target of some covert attack, but old habits died hard, and if Severus had happened to waltz in right at that moment and spy Harry lounging on the squishy blue couch, in the wide open, there would be hell to pay.

Before he had settled down, he had placed numerous protective wards on the house, and set them to alert him silently if they were breeched. Mentally he cursed himself for only now taking such measures, but "last night" if you could call it that, at Honeydukes, he had still been in a state of shock.

Surprisingly, as terrifying as it was to see Draco leave, it had cleared Harry's mind a bit. Whether or not it was a result of being alone or just the inevitable acceptance of the situation, he felt more focused now than he had since the ordeal had begun. Which, by his estimation, was about seven hours ago.

He had quickly discovered that his Tempus charm was useless. He had actually left the charm activated for a few minutes earlier in the evening and watched the hands as they raced around the face of the wispy clock.

As soon as Harry sat down, the fatigue rolled over him. He closed his eyes with a giant sigh, in a quandary as to whether to rest. If he slept, he was vulnerable to attack. If he didn't, he would grow careless in short order. He settled for a light meditative state that Severus had taught him, which would allow him to remain hyper aware of his surroundings as well as rest a weary mind and body. When he had obtained the proper focus, and attuned himself to the defensive wards, he closed his eyes.

Not one to idle away his time of introspection, he turned his mind to the strange phenomenon affecting Draco and himself. Simple mathematics suggested that something had happened to Harry and Draco, not to the rest of the world, although whether the phenomenon extended beyond Hogwarts and Hogsmeade had yet to be determined. Although he expected that Draco knew by now.

Not for the first time since Draco had apparated away, Harry cursed the other boy's blind panic. Although, in all fairness to the other boy, if Harry had a place he called home, other than Hogwarts, he most likely would have done the same thing.

He turned the event over and over in his mind, as well as replayed the time they had spent locked in the dungeon, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Perplexed, he reviewed it again.

The boys had entered the room, looking for the pieces of furniture Filch had wanted them to shrink and move up to the teacher's lounge. In a flash, the door had slammed behind them and had refused to open, even as the boys had exhausted their knowledge of basic unlocking spells. They had argued, no surprise there. They had transfigured some beds and gone to sleep. Harry brow furrowed, but his eyes remained closed. Had there been something else? He didn't think so, but maybe Draco would remember something he didn't. Draco. Harry blew out a frustrated breath, completely ruining his mediation. He wanted to shake the Slytherin for splitting them up.

But when he opened his eyes, dawn was breaking over the picturesque little town of Hogsmeade, and Harry's thoughts of revenge dissipated. Morning, again, he thought. Time to leave.

Not counting the Tempus spell, the rest of Harry's magic seemed unaffected by whatever had happened, so with only a small hesitation, he apparated from the small living room to the back alley of the Leaky Cauldron. Two of his questions were answered immediately. First, dawn was just breaking here, a sign that Diagon Alley had been affected by the time distortion. And second, it was as empty as Hogsmeade.

He raised his hand tentatively toward the small brick that opened the portal into the Alley, but pulled back at the last second. Not questioning his motives, he turned away and entered The Leaky Cauldron. There, he found the same strange undisturbed emptiness that he had observed at both Hogwarts and Hogsmeade.

Harry shivered and unconsciously wrapped his arms about himself. For some reason, he felt more ill at ease here that he had at The Three Broomsticks. But perhaps that was due to the small details. Here, fires still burned in a half a dozen hearths across the room. And while normally the flickering warmth would give the area a comfortable, homey feeling, when combined with the unexplained emptiness, it became menacing – throwing moving shadows to all corners of the room.

It was deathly quiet.

Even the fires didn't seem to burn with their normal pop and crackle, and Harry realized his breathing was the loudest sound in the whole pub. Once again, the feeling of being watched came over him, but this time he ignored it, knowing that he was scared and unsure of himself. Still, the feeling persisted.

Harry glanced around, and his eyes fell on the door leading to the street of Muggle London. He strained his ears for any sounds from the other side, but all was silent. Cautiously, he approached the door, and in a most childlike move, placed his ear to the thick wood. As he listened, he racked his brain for some memory of whether or not one could normally hear the street sounds from this side of the door. Sighing in frustration, he gave up. He stepped back and then glanced over to the staircase leading to the second floor. One thing Harry did know from his previous stay here: from Room 11 on the second floor, one could hear both the hustle and bustle of Charing Cross Road in Muggle London, and the activity of Diagon Alley. He crossed the room, moving toward the staircase, making sure to stay in the lighted areas. He didn't even bother berating himself for his fear. For sanity's sake, he called it caution.

At the bottom of the staircase, he looked up towards the second floor for several minutes, but each time his foot would twitch and try to lift itself to the first riser, Harry would force it back to the floor. Finally, he sighed and turned away. There was such a thing as too much information, he decided.

Whether or not the Muggle world was gone may not have made a difference to someone like Draco, but to Harry its existence was a comfort, and knowing he could retreat into the masses of London, despite what had happened in the Wizarding world, provided a modicum of reassurance. One he wasn't ready to give up on yet.

He tried not to think of the silence beyond the front door of the pub.

Knowing it was time to explore Diagon Alley, he charmed his clock to appear beside him, wanting to check the "time" before venturing out into the street. By his reckoning, and by what had transpired so far, he should have at least an hour of daylight left.

However, when the clock appeared, wavering beside him, he did a double take. According to his spell, it was midnight. And as he watched the clock, waiting to see how speedily time was moving about him now, he became more and more nervous. The hands on the clock did not seem to be moving at all. Puzzled by this latest mystery, he lowered himself to a nearby bench, absently picking up a discarded glass of water and drinking thirstily from it as he watched the clock. Finally, after ten long minutes by Harry's best estimate, the clock clicked ahead one minute.

It was now one minute past midnight.

Harry continued to watch, now shamelessly picking through the food that littered the table at which he sat. He munched on a roll and drank some more water. About ten minutes later, or so he thought, the clock once again moved ahead one minute.

It was now two minutes past midnight.

Harry sighed and he pondered this latest development. It was going to be a long night.

A noise awoke Harry from his fitful slumber. The wards he had erected around himself weren't singing in alarm, and so he remained completely relaxed and unmoving, faking sleep, as his eyes scanned the room. The noise had been a clink, or maybe a clunk, not ominous under normal circumstances, yet these were anything but. After several minutes of surreptitiously scanning the room, Harry illuminated it with his wand.

It had not changed from when he had first entered. From his position in a tucked away corner, Harry could see the entire main room of The Leaky Cauldron. Nothing was out of place. Taking a deep, shaky breath, Harry stood, brushing the dirt and grime of the floor from his robe. With a flick of his wand, he lifted the wards and checked the time.

When the clock appeared, it read 12:30am, and Harry stifled a mad laugh. He knew that he had slept at least five hours, since his body felt well-rested and his mind clear, no longer foggy with fatigue.

Banishing the clock with a careless wave, he slipped his wand back into his pocket and covered his face with his hands. As he slowly let them slip down his face, first revealing his eyes, then nose, and then finally his mouth, he took several deep cleansing breathes. When his fingers reached his chin, he steepled them there, and turned to face the back door.

"No time like the present," he mumbled to himself, and actually jumped at the sound of his own voice as it echoed quietly through the silent space. He had two options. He could stay here in The Leaky Cauldron until "daybreak", but at this rate, that could take days, and he felt compelled to investigate Diagon Alley without delay. Which meant, he thought to himself with a wry smile, traversing the Alley in the dark. Not exactly the safest plan, but in Harry's opinion, it beat waiting at the pub for a dawn that may never come. He grimaced. Now there was a pleasant thought.

Fixing his determined gaze on the door, he buttoned his robe and slid his wand from his pocket to hold it at the ready. The trip across the large room seemed to take forever, his shoes making a soft squish-squish noise as he walked. Harry gritted his teeth and forced himself not to hurry his pace. He would not be frightened into running from a room filled with nothing but shadows. But when he reached the back door, he slipped hurriedly through it and slammed it shut just as his imaginary phantoms raced out of the dark to overcome him. He stood with his back against the door for several seconds, waiting for his heartbeat to slow.

"Get a grip, Harry," he whispered.

When the cold sweat decorating his brow had dried, and his hands were once again reasonably steady, he walked through the pitch black night to the brick wall, only lighting his wand light at the last second, in order to locate the proper brick. As soon as he activated the portal, he slipped to the side, taking himself out of the line of attack, and waited.

A cold wind rushed over his face and across his body, ruffling the robe around his calves. The sound of the fabric rustling and the restless movement of a discarded newspaper as the wind carried it across the cobbled street were the only sounds he heard. Still, his training demanded he wait, and so he did. When five minutes had passed with no sound or movement, he edged through the stone arch and into Diagon Alley.

Harry had never been in the Alley at night. Right before his third year at Hogwarts, he had spent over three weeks living at The Leaky Cauldron, investigating Diagon Alley by day. But by dusk, he had always been safely tucked away in Room 11, wading through his summer homework.

However, his famialiarity with the area would help him now. Although the street was nearly pitch black, not even lit by the moon, Harry could see it all in his mind's eye. Warily, he moved out into the street and began a cautious reconnoiter of the closest shops.

Upon closer inspection, he saw they were not all completely dark. In fact, the first shadowy building to loom on his right, the Apothecary, was lit very softly from the inside. Harry caught his breath at the incongruity of that small light in the surrounding pitch black. Hope sparked, rising from a point somewhere low in his stomach to float very near his heart. He approached the Apothecary, still taking pains to remain unobtrusive, and peaked in the window.

Far in the back of the store, a single candle burned. Harry could even see its small dancing wick. Despite his desire to race inside and investigate, he hesitated as Severus's voice sounded through his head.

"Caution. Always caution, Harry. I realize overcoming your ingrained Gryffindor urge to rush pell-mell into a potentially dangerous situation will be difficult, but if you manage to retain any knowledge whatsoever from these lessons, let it be that. Caution, even if brief and fleeting, can save your life."

So Harry paused. He watched and he waited. But even after fifteen minutes or so, at least by his figuring, he detected no movement or sound from within. After another five minutes, his patience was paper-thin. Slipping to the door of the Apothecary, he drew his wand, preparing to overpower whatever wards protected the door. But to his overwhelming surprise, the door was unlatched and standing partly open.

Trap! His mind screamed, but Harry forged ahead anyway. He could almost see Severus dropping his head into his hands and shaking his head. Well, he thought with a small smile, one had to give credit to the Potions Master for trying. But some behaviors, like foolish Gryffindor curiosity, just couldn't be overcome. And besides, the need to find some explanation as to what had happened quickly overruled the part of him still clinging to his Defense training.

As he neared the candle, he noticed its meager glimmer illuminated the dozens of jars, bottles and vials around it. The sporadic and shifting light did nothing to abate Harry's unease, and in fact made it seem as if the toad's eyes were blinking and the gelatinous masses of slugs were shifting in their jars. The smell of the place was, as usual, sickening.

Harry approached the circle of light slowly, and somewhere in his mind, a memory triggered. He stopped in his tracks and tried to grasp the details of it, but to no avail. Still, he couldn't ignore how the small sphere of light shining on the floor around the candle left him with such a profound feeling of déjá vu. Shaking his head when the foggy memory finally slipped away entirely, he refocused on the single burning candle. Stepping closer to the table, he read the small sign positioned directly beneath it.

It read: "Forever Burning Candle. For those potions that take weeks and months to brew, never be afraid to leave your fire unattended again. Will self-monitor for heating needs and will never go out! Ten levels of heat!" Harry couldn't help but smile at the irony of the situation. He had been looking for the perfect gift for Severus's birthday – he figured he owed the man something for putting up with him not only in Occlumency, but also in Defense – and had finally found it. Unfortunately, the likelihood of ever seeing the man again was fading with each passing hour.

Sighing in disappointment, Harry made his way back through the shop toward the door. When he reached the street, he took a moment to gaze down the length of Diagon Alley. As his eyes readjusted to the gloom, he noticed faint lights in several places. There appeared to be a light or two at Flourish and Blotts, perhaps one at Madame Malkins, and what looked to be several at Gringotts, if his eyes were not deceiving him. The bank was still quite a ways off, but in the near complete darkness of the night, each tiny light shone like a beacon.

As he continued his slow walk, he reflected on the intermittent lights. The Leaky Cauldron's fireplaces had been lit, but not its torches. Some establishments along the street had one or two lights burning, but not many. It was a conundrum, and he turned it over in his mind several times searching for the most likely answer. Harry had hoped that by focusing on this one puzzle, he would avoid the panicky feeling that had been clawing at him since the beginning of this ordeal. But, ultimately, he was mistaken.

Each step away from the pub and into the inky darkness caused the ball of tension in his gut to twist a little tighter. He began to think even complete darkness would have been preferable to the small glimpses of normality the occasional burning candle or weak light revealed. The soft, glowing beacons only punctuated the other-worldliness of the situation. Even in the wee hours of the morning, the streetlamps should have been lit. Lights should shine from second floor apartments. In his summer stay here, plagued by dreams of Voldemort, he would sit at his window late at night and watch the goings-on below; and by the nature of its inhabitants, even in the hours before dawn, Diagon Alley always seemed alive.

Tonight, it felt dead.

Harry cursed himself for harboring such juvenile fears. Ignoring the warning bells in his head, he forged ahead toward Gringotts. The air had grown cold, and evidence of his fast, shallow respirations streamed out behind him as he walked. As he passed Knockturn Alley on his left, a flash of light caught his attention. In a credit to Snape's training, Harry was flat against the brick wall of the nearest building in less than two seconds. Swiftly, he beat down his panic and forced his breathing to a more normal pace. Edging to the corner of the structure, he crouched before easing his head around the side.

There. A light was moving in Knockturn Alley. As Harry watched, it faded in and out, but never completely died. In fact, it grew brighter. Harry watched a full thirty seconds before he realized the light was not growing brighter, simply closer. He strained his ears for any sounds, and almost immediately detected soft footfalls on the smooth cobblestones of the street. As the figure drew closer, Harry was torn between calling out to the person and immobilizing him. The small boy inside him begged to be able to reach out to the other person, longing for any companionship in this world gone mad. But the warrior in his blood prevailed, and Harry settled into a defensive stance, raised his wand, and prepared to stun the unknown figure approaching him through the light fog.

Suddenly, the light stopped moving. Harry held his spell, pulling his magic back slightly while he waited. Then, out of the dark, a voice spoke. "Harry?" it said.

Harry couldn't stop his soft sound of relief and joy, and the light suddenly began to bob wildly as the person ran closer.

"Harry!"

"Draco," Harry whispered and then Draco was there. He stopped uncertainly less than two feet from Harry before abandoning all decorum and launching himself at the other boy, wrapping Harry in his arms and hugging him fiercely.

Harry started laughing, barely noticing when his amusement morphed into relieved, breathless sobs, which he muffled against Draco's neck. They stayed that way for a long time, simply reveling in each other's touch. Draco clutched handfuls of Harry's robe, kneading them in his hands as he mumbled angry, incoherent words into Harry's messy hair. Harry just breathed – enjoying the scent he had always associated with Draco, one of cinnamon and musk, and wondered how he had never before noticed how intoxicating it was.

Finally, he tuned in to Draco's disjointed mumblings.

"You stupid, stupid…what were you thinking…don't ever do that again."

With a snort, Harry pushed Draco away. "I certainly hope that's yourself you're talking to," he said.

Draco looked back in amazement. "Why would I be talking to myself, Potter? I haven't been alone that long."

"I'm stupid? What was I thinking? You prat! You're the one who left!"

Draco lifted his chin and pulled his cloak more closely around his slim frame. "You made me," he sniffed.

Harry groaned and turned away. "Oh, that's mature."

"At least you're not saying it's untrue."

Harry spun back around and placed his hands on his hips. "It is untrue!"

Draco yawned. "I've been back five minutes, Potter, and you're already boring me."

Harry reached for indignation, but found nothing but a buoying sense of relief. Tilting his head back, he laughed long and hard, not caring at that moment how noisy he was being or who might be listening. When he pictured Snape's eyes bulging from their sockets at his reckless behavior, his laughter became even more booming. And when he finally regained some control, and had quieted his mirth to quiet chuckles, he found to his surprise that Draco had been laughing too.

As their merriment rang out over the emptiness of Diagon Alley, the sun rose over the horizon, bathing the street in a warm glow.

The two walked closely side by side, a new habit of theirs, back to The Leaky Cauldron.

Draco glanced up suspiciously at the brightening sky. "By my calculations, dawn was at least a few days away."

"So you've noticed how erratically time has been fluctuating?" Harry asked and Draco snorted humorlessly.

"Rather hard to miss, Potter."

Harry glanced over at Draco. "How is it you were in Knockturn Alley?" he asked.

"Our floo's permanently connected to…a location near the end," Draco finished after a pause.

Harry ignored the near slip. "You didn't apparate?"

At this question, Draco's pause was even more pronounced. Harry glanced over again to see the other boy chewing nervously on his bottom lip. Finally, Draco shrugged and answered. "I wasn't feeling up to apparating, and I didn't want to be splinched in a world where there was no one to fix me."

Harry heard everything that was unspoken in those few short words. He reached out tentatively and brushed his fingers over Draco's, but didn't try to take his hand, or even break his stride. As he watched, Draco's mouth quirked up on one side. Shooting Harry a sidelong glance, he returned the fleeting touch, briefly trailing his fingers over the back of Harry's hand. "Thanks," he said.

"Was it bad?" Harry asked in a low voice.

Draco swallowed heavily and nodded. Unsure why he felt compelled to share, he nonetheless spoke freely about what had happened when he had apparated to Malfoy Manor.

"There was no one there – obviously," Draco began, finally having the grace to look sheepish. "But, it was…eerie. The table had been set for a late dinner, the kind my mother and Severus usually enjoy on a Friday night, and it even looks like they had started eating, but…" he broke off and shrugged helplessly. "What can I say? I…panicked a bit. The house elves were gone, too. After a while, I made my way up to my mother's suite, thinking maybe she left some clue behind or something. But there wasn't a thing out of place."

They walked along silently for another minute while Harry digested this information. As they neared the entrance to The Leaky Cauldron, Harry turned to Draco. "Severus has dinner with your mother every Friday night?" he asked suspiciously.

Draco just shook his head at Harry as the other boy activated the portal. "Did you hear anything else I said?" he asked.

"Of course!" Harry fired back a little too quickly. Draco arched an eyebrow at Harry and pinned him with a speculative look.

"Have a thing for Severus, Harry?"

"No!"

Draco just smirked. Harry groaned and smacked the other boy on the arm. "Not anymore," he grudgingly admitted as they passed through the portal and into the small alley behind The Leaky Cauldron.

"It was just a schoolboy crush then?" Draco asked as they approached the back door.

"No, it was…I don't know." Harry sighed and leaned back against the door, crossing his arms over his chest. "He made it very clear it wasn't possible, and I lived with that. I didn't want to jeopardize our first amicable relationship by pursuing it. So, I took what he said to heart and…moved on."

"To whom?"

Harry snorted. "Did you hear a word _I_ just said?" he teased.

Draco gave a small smile, but his expression was grave. "Harry, be careful around Severus. I know he's instructing you and some of the other seventh years, including myself, in Defense during his spare time, but…" Draco made sure he had Harry's attention as he finished, "just be careful."

Harry gave Draco an appraising look. He knew Draco had no idea Severus spied for the Order, and so no doubt believed the Potions Master was out to hurt Harry, either directly or indirectly. Despite their current circumstances, the implied warning surprised Harry. Why, he wondered, would Malfoy care what happened to me?

"Did you hear me, Harry?"

And now he was calling him Harry again. "I heard you, Draco. Message received," Harry answered.

Draco nodded once and pulled the door open.

"You're assuming of course," Harry said as they entered, "that we're going to be seeing him again."

" I am."

"Why?"

"Because the thought of spending the rest of my life alone with you gives me indigestion."

"Draco," Harry grinned and ruffled the other boy's hair playfully. "You say the nicest things."

Draco grimaced and ducked out from underneath Harry's touch. Scowling, he tried to smooth his hair back to its usual elegance. The boys moved to the center of the room and dropped like rag dolls into two chairs around a large table. Draco flicked his wand, summoning food and drink to the table. Witnessing the display, Harry gave a bark of laughter and dropped his head onto his arms. "Boy, do you have a wake-up call coming," he said.

Draco sneered at Harry, even though the other boy's head was still cradled in his arms, and couldn't see it. Then, from the kitchen, came a clank and a clatter. In a heartbeat, both Harry and Draco were up, wands in hands, facing the entrance to the kitchen. When the noise came again, Draco jerked. "Easy," Harry soothed from across the table. All of a sudden, the doors to the kitchen burst open and plates upon plates of food flew through the air to land gracefully on Harry and Draco's table. Pitchers of cold water and Butterbeer followed.

"Ah, now that's more like it," Draco said sweetly, before seating himself and investigating the offering. "Mmmmm," he said as he raised each steaming lid. "I didn't realize how hungry I was until just now," he admitted, gesturing for Harry to take his seat. When Harry hesitated, Draco rolled his eyes.

"Potter," he snapped. "If the dessert plates get feisty, I'll protect you. Now eat!" he demanded.

With a shrug and one last glance at the kitchen, Harry ate.

During the meal, they spoke very little. But Harry did remember what he had wanted to ask Draco about.

"Draco?"

"Mmmm."

It occurred to me that in all likelihood, it's you and I that have been…displaced," Harry began.

"I have come to the same conclusion," Draco agreed before he spooned mashed potatoes into his mouth.

Harry stifled the urge to roll his eyes. "Do you remember anything out of the ordinary happening the night we had detention?"

Draco sighed and leaned back in his chair, wiping his fingers on his napkin. "No. I've already been over this in my head." When Harry appeared to be waiting expectantly, Draco sighed and resigned himself to the retelling. Tilting his chair back, he crossed his hands behind his head and closed his eyes.

Harry had found over the past day or so that he liked this particular pose of Draco's. It allowed Harry to study the other boy without fear of being caught staring. So when Draco began speaking, Harry only tuned in halfway, relying on his subconscious to pick up any discrepancies from his own remembrance of the night. The other half of his focus remained on Draco himself, rather than his words. Harry found himself again wondering why the Slytherin had warned him about Severus.

"Okay," Draco was saying, "so then we were stuck, since none of our unlocking spells worked. Er…I transfigured a bed, you created…more of a pallet – I thought Transfiguration was one of your better subjects – and we went to sleep. End of story."

Draco opened his eyes to see Harry staring at him with a puzzled expression. "Is that not how you remember it?" Draco asked.

"No," Harry said absently. He shook his head and seemed to come out of a light trance. "I mean, yes, that's exactly how I remember it. Nothing out of the ordinary."

Draco fiddled with his napkin. "Nothing," he said. Suddenly, he threw his napkin on the table, knocking a glass over in the process. Harry raised an eyebrow at the childish behavior.

"I won't just sit here, Potter. So, I might as well ask. What do you think we should do? Where do we start?"

"Well," Harry drawled slowly as he too tossed his napkin to the table. "I think we should go back to Hogwarts. At the very least, the library might have some mention of this kind of phenomenon."

Draco's mouth dropped open in shock. "Hogwarts? Big empty castle? Creepy even when filled with people? That Hogwarts?" When Harry nodded, Draco groaned and tilted his chair back again, this time covering his face with his hands.

Harry couldn't help becoming defensive. "Do you have a better idea, Malfoy?" he asked, his tone challenging.

Draco just sighed and shook his head. Silence fell over the room as the two young wizards fell to their own musings. Strangely, Harry thought, the emptiness and the silence were not scary when Draco was with him. In fact, it felt peaceful – for about two minutes, and then Draco spoke.

"Have you been outside yet?" he asked in a quiet voice.

Harry was about to scathingly remind the other boy of the events of the past two hours, when the true meaning of Draco's question became clear. He faltered. "No. No, I thought about it…but…I didn't." Harry finished in a weak voice.

Draco stared across the table at Harry. "Do you think we should?" he asked, voice becoming even lower.

No, Harry's mind screamed. But the truth was, and Harry was willing to admit it to himself, that they should be aware of how wide-spread this…event…was, if they were to have a chance at reversing or fixing it somehow.

"Shall we check then?" Draco asked. Harry, clearly distressed, just nodded.

Unable to prolong the inevitable, Harry stood and Draco followed suit. Harry noticed Draco appeared a bit pale, but the other boy didn't hesitate when Harry gestured questioningly at the front door. With a determined step, he crossed the room and Harry followed.

"Well, Potter?"

Mouth suddenly dry, Harry nodded again and gestured loosely toward the door handle. Taking a deep breath, Draco grasped the handle and pulled.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four  
Room of Requirement**

  
  
  


 

Draco gave the door a mighty pull, swinging it open all the way in one go, and both boys stared out into the bright day. Harry took a shaky breath and ran one hand over his face before stepping back over the threshold and into The Leaky Cauldron. "Well, that answers that question," he said softly.

Draco just stared wide-eyed at the empty street. "Uncanny," he whispered as he strained to see beyond the one stretch of Charing Cross Road that The Leaky Cauldron stood on. Tentatively, he took one step, then another, and then a few more down the first few steps toward the street, eyes scanning all directions.

"Come on, Draco," Harry called from inside. Draco looked back distractedly, but continued his cautious movement toward the street. "Draco!" Harry called, more insistently, and this time Draco scowled at him.

"What, Potter!" he yelled. The echo of his voice rebounded off the surrounding buildings and the resulting, "otter, otter, otter" faded so slowly that Draco swore he could still hear it over a minute later. Raising an eyebrow, he turned and loped up the few steps to the door. Shoving Harry out of the way, he closed it firmly behind him. "Okay, I see your point," he said and Harry rolled his eyes.

The two boys stood staring at each other. Finally, Harry spoke. "You haven't rested. Would you like to do that here or at Hogwarts?"

Draco considered this and decided he was just fatigued enough that making that kind of decision was beyond him. Which effectively decided the matter. "Here," he said.

Harry nodded. "Fine. How about Room 11." He smiled ruefully. "I can vouch for its comfort."

Draco shrugged, noncommittal, and together they trudged up the stairs. Draco eyed the front door all the way up. Harry didn't miss the other boy's unease. "A bit creepy, isn't it," he said as they climbed. Draco just nodded.

When they reached the landing, Harry led Draco down the hall to Room 11. At the last second, he worried about it being locked, but the latch clicked open without any problems and the boys entered the room.

"Er…I guess I'll be next door," Harry stammered as Draco stood in the middle of the room, looking around slowly. He turned to go and with the speed of a striking viper, Draco's hand shot out and grabbed Harry's elbow.

"Where are you going?"

"I…just thought…next door," Harry said.

"Oh."

Harry lingered, not making any further attempts to leave, not that he could if he wanted to with Draco's fingers digging into his arm. "Do you want me to stay?" Harry ventured, secretly hoping Draco would say yes.

"Yes! What do you think?"

Harry's "okay" erupted as a bit of hysterical laughter and Draco scrutinized him critically. "Yes, Potter. I definitely think you should stay here. You're not looking too stable."

"Me?" Harry exclaimed. "I wasn't the one…."

"All right, Potter. Point taken. We're both scared. There. I've admitted it. Can we dispense with the macho theatrics now?" Draco groaned and waved the door shut and locked with his wand. "I really need some sleep."

Harry clenched his teeth in frustration, but admitted to himself that Draco had a point.

"Fine," he said.

As Draco unbuttoned his robe and slipped his shoes off, he eyed Harry warily. "Do you think we should take turns…standing watch or something?"

Harry shook his head. "No. I'll set some wards." His words were clipped and Draco considered trying to figure out what was bothering the other boy, but told himself he was too tired, and frankly didn't care. Which, of course, a voice in his head chimed in helpfully, wasn't true. Draco cursed his conscience.

"What's wrong, Potter?" he asked as he climbed onto the bed.

"Nothing," Harry replied without turning. He began to set the wards.

Draco sighed. "Fine. I'm going to sleep."

"You do that."

Draco sneered at Harry's back before fluffing his pillow and lying back against it. Let it go, his mind demanded, and so he did. In two minutes, he was asleep.

Harry sighed to himself when he heard Draco's breathing even out. He couldn't have slept right now if his life depended on it. He understood why Draco wasn't as upset by the disappearance of the Muggles as Harry was, but he still felt resentful that the Slytherin could take it all in stride.

It was not a small matter for Harry.

Partly, he thought he had a better understanding than Draco of the sheer number of people that were now simply – not there. For Draco, the Muggle world was a peripheral one, and it would always remain so. But Harry had been raised as a Muggle for over half of his life – he knew the Muggle world, and seeing it empty had been a bigger shock than anything that had yet happened. He sighed and massaged his temples. His head ached.

He finished setting the wards and turned to the bed. He considered sleeping on the floor for about ten seconds before snorting and crawling onto the bed beside Draco. Despite his earlier rest, and his nervous tension, he fell asleep instantly.

When Draco woke, it was not to the warning alarms of the wards, but to the soft snores of the boy in his arms. He let himself float in that hazy half awareness that usually precedes full wakefulness and enjoyed the warm weight snuggled against him. Then memory returned.

Draco's eyes widened and he tensed to throw Harry off of him, but at the last second, hesitated. Was having Harry in his arms so bad? he wondered. The mere physical presence of another person was comforting enough, considering their circumstances. But to Draco's surprise, he was happier it was Harry rather than anyone else. He knew Harry's power, as well as his sense of duty and responsibility. If anyone could protect him, it was Harry. And perhaps even more soothing, very few would bother to shield Draco. And yet, despite their differences, Draco sensed that when push came to shove, Harry would do so willingly. The thought warmed him.

Weird. Maybe he hadn't gotten enough sleep.

That was the only explanation Draco would willingly attribute to his sudden desire to pull Harry closer, rather than push him away. Turning his head, Draco nuzzled Harry's hair ever so gently. His body responded appropriately.

He defiantly needed to go back to sleep, he thought with a small groan. Maybe he had hit his head. People don't always remember head injuries, after all. It was a valid medical reason that would account for the sudden attraction. As quietly as possible, Draco reached up and began feeling around his scalp for a bump or laceration.

"What are you doing?" Harry's sleepy voice inquired.

Draco's hand shot back to his side. "Nothing."

"I know. That's the first thing I thought of when I woke up in this position."

"What?"

"That I must have bumped my head."

Strangely, that upset Draco. "And you figured that would be the only reason you were snuggled up to me? A head injury?"

Harry looked up through mussed hair and pinned Draco with sleepy, green eyes. "Isn't that what you were thinking?" he asked.

"Certainly not."

"Prove it."

Draco's eyes widened, and his pulse picked up. But after looking again into Harry's sleep-soft eyes and feeling his warm hands nestled against him, one on his back, the other flat against his chest between them, he decided it wouldn't be such a chore. To prove his point, that is. Draco closed his eyes and shook his head lightly to clear it. What point had he been trying to make? Something about…about….

Harry kissed him.

Oh yeah, that was it.

Draco took control of the contact right off, shifting their bodies so that he was lying half atop Harry, pushing him into the mattress with his weight. He kept the contact soft and fleeting, just brushing their lips together over and over until he heard Harry's groan of frustration. Ridiculously pleased with himself, he let his tongue slide along the outside of Harry's lips, first along the top, then the bottom, before plunging in and plundering the other boy's mouth with a relentlessness completely opposite to that of his previous gentle exploration.

When he pulled back to take a necessary breath, Harry shoved him away. Draco stared at him flabbergasted, trying to regain both his breath and his composure. "What?" he asked, confused.

"You've made your point, Malfoy." Harry's voice was quiet and shaky. He slid away from Draco and out of the bed. Draco's frustration level hit a peak.

"What the hell, Potter?" he yelled.

"Sod off," he heard Harry mumble.

Draco sniffed with practiced diffidence and pulled the covers back over his now chilled body. "Have it your way, Potter. But, remember: beggars can't be choosers," he added snidely.

Harry looked back once before he began to tear down the wards. "I beg for nothing, Malfoy," he stated with quiet dignity. With an angry swish, the wards were gone.

And so was Harry.

When Draco descended the stairs nearly an hour later, at least it had felt like an hour to Draco's time sense, Harry was waiting for him. He dispensed with the niceties straight off.

"Are you able to apparate?" he asked.

Draco stiffened. "Yes, of course."

Harry nodded. "I think that would be better than the floo. I'd rather just go right to the Hogwarts ward boundaries than go through Hogsmeade again. You?"

"I couldn't agree more."

Draco watched Harry closely, but as best he could gather, Harry seemed willing to leave the uncomfortable scene from upstairs behind them. Draco wasn't sure how he felt about that. But he let it drop for the time being.

"Ready?" Harry asked.

"You're not wasting any time."

"I want to get the fuck out of here, if it's all the same to you."

"Sure, sure. Let's rush back to the creepy, deserted castle. How could I miss the irrefutable logic in that?" Draco was satisfied to see a smile tug at the corners of Harry's mouth, and he smiled himself, amazed he was still able to make jokes at all.

"Together?" Harry prompted.

"My favorite way."

With a loud crack, they apparated.

By the time Harry and Draco had traversed the grounds between the Hogwarts ward boundaries and the front entrance, it was becoming dark again.

"Is there any rhyme or reason to this?" Draco asked as he squinted at the setting sun.

"I haven't discovered a pattern yet," Harry replied from beside him.

"Well, keep working on it, Potter."

Beside him, Harry snorted.

"Where to?" Draco asked as they entered the castle. He looked around, shivering in the damp coolness.

"I thought the Room of Requirement." Harry turned to Draco. "Since my magic seems to be working, I'm hoping the castle's is as well. The room will provide us with anything we need, including food, and it's close to the library."

"Ah, yes," Draco said with distaste. "The library."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Do you have a better suggestion?"

"Ummm. No."

Harry rolled his eyes again. "I thought not. Completely clueless." He shook his head as he started up the main staircase. "What would your father say?" he shot back, not expecting Draco to answer.

"Who bloody cares what he thinks," Draco muttered under his breath. But Harry had heard him. Glancing back curiously, he tried to catch Draco's eye, but the other boy shoved past him without a word.

The next few weeks passed uneventfully. If one could call the strange and unpredictable passage of time uneventful. For the most part, Draco stopped paying attention to the speeding and slowing by the third "day." But Harry had begun keeping track of their sleep and waking cycles, hoping to keep a handle on how much time had truly passed. Therefore, it didn't take him long to discover a pattern in the seemingly patternless days and nights.

According to Harry, time was passing at approximately the same rate as it always did, only in fits and starts, like a car moving through heavy traffic. He was very proud of himself for figuring it out. Draco was impressed, but of course, he didn't let on.

"Thanks for the completely useless information, Potter. I'll sleep better tonight."

Harry had just sighed and gone back to his research.

Days were spent in the library, searching for anything that might explain what was happening to them, or even describe a similar event in history. Predictably – at least Draco thought – there was nothing.

By the end of the first month, Draco was bored. However, life was comfortable, thanks to the Room of Requirement. That is, as long as Draco didn't let Harry wish for their meals. He had absolutely no imagination and couldn't understand, no matter how many times Draco explained it to him, that shepherd's pie was not pleasurable to eat five damned days in a row! Therefore, meals had become Draco's responsibility. He relished providing a tasty, varied dinner every single night. He had even introduced the boy-who-only-ate-shepherd's-pie to some new dishes.

On the other hand, Harry had taken over the more mundane tasks. Things, quite frankly, Draco had never considered before. Like making sure they had clean clothes and the like. Not that this was a stressful job, all it took was a wish after all, but for some reason Harry was especially good at remembering those things, while Draco was not.

All in all, it evolved into a mutually beneficial relationship – with the exception of one thing. Their first night back, Harry had wished for two beds, and so each night since they had slept alone. Draco discovered that as time went on, he found the arrangement more and more frustrating. But if Harry felt the same way, he didn't let on.

And Malfoys didn't beg either. So Draco kept his discontent to himself.

He was in the library one day, reviewing this particular gripe in his head for the hundredth time, when the shadows began to suddenly grow long over the floor and table. Glancing up, he noticed the sun was setting at its usual swift pace. Shrugging, it was as good an excuse as any, he shut the book he had been reading and trudged out of the library.

Long ago, he had ceased to be unnerved by the silent castle. In fact, for a host of reasons he had yet to discuss with Harry, he was coming to enjoy the solitude. The most compelling reason: no Lucius Malfoy. Draco scowled just thinking of the man.

Draco arrived at the Room of Requirement just as full night descended. He opened the door, fully expecting to see Harry moping about. Well, not moping exactly. Harry hadn't seemed to mind the solitude either. In fact, he appeared to be more at peace with himself than ever before, at least since Draco had met him.

But Harry wasn't there.

Draco ignored the quick stab of fear and instead "incendio'd" the fire and settled down in front of it with a book. He stared at the same page for what he judged to be at least a half an hour before he jumped up and began nervously pacing the floor. After another ten minutes of that, he grabbed his cloak and left to look for Harry.

An hour later, Draco stood in the middle of the Entrance Hall and willed himself not to panic. But despite his efforts, his breath came in short gasps and his heart was racing. He rubbed a hand over his stomach, trying to settle it, and for what felt like the hundredth time, called for Harry. Only his own voice echoed back to him.

By now, Draco was pretty sure Harry was not in the castle. But he had no idea where on the grounds to start searching. In a flash, inspiration struck. Draco held out his hand and yelled loudly, " _Accio Firebolt_!"

Who knows, maybe the boy wonder's broom was still in Gryffindor Tower. Draco shifted his weight uneasily back and forth as he waited. Just as he was about to give up hope, Harry's broom came speeding toward Draco from a high window near the ceiling. When Draco reached out to grab it, several small shards of glass fell to the floor. He smiled.

"Came through the window, did you?" he asked, and then snorted. If talking to a broom wasn't a sure sign Draco was becoming hysterical, then nothing was. Running to the front doors, he pushed hurriedly through and mounted the broom.

This particular night was pitch black. Some nights, the boys discovered, had moons. In fact, in their weeks there, they had seen each of the phases at least once. But tonight, there was nothing, and a cool, sharp breeze told Draco that cloud cover was probably to blame. Frowning, he realized he could almost taste the cold rain of the approaching storm.

He had circled the entire grounds twice, flying lower the second time in case he had missed anything, when a flash of something at the end of the Quidditch Pitch caught his eye. By then, the wind had grown quite fierce. A sudden gust almost blew him into the ground, and by the time he looked back, what he had seen was gone. Gritting his teeth against the increasing chill, he shot off for the north end of the Quidditch pitch. When he got close, he saw a crumpled form lying motionless on the ground.

Draco hit the ground running, and in an instant was by Harry's side. Harry was perfectly still and at first Draco could hear or see nothing over the roaring, whipping wind. Finally, he felt something. A ghost of a sound – a shallow, raspy breath, and movement – the weak twitch of a hand. Almost crying in relief, Draco scooped Harry up, mindful of the leg that looked to be bent at an odd angle, and began walking back to the school. As he turned, he noticed the broken remains of a school broom that had been hidden under Harry's fallen body. Cursing Harry's foolishness, Draco started the long trek back to the castle.

Harry climbed into painful consciousness with Draco's voice in his ear.

"Stupid! Stupid! Gods, if you make it through this, I'm going to kill you!"

Harry couldn't help his lips twitching into a smile at the panic he heard in the other boy's voice. Resolving to put Draco out of his misery, he tried to tell him he was all right. But all that emerged was a painful moan. His next mistake was trying to move. Pain exploded through nearly every nerve ending in his body, but all he could manage was a strangled gasp when he tried to scream.

"Serves you right! Stupid prat! Let me guess – you were trying one of your reckless Quidditch moves. On a school broom, of all things! Idiot! You're lucky you're not dead!"

Now that was taking it a bit far, Harry thought. Through his haze of pain, he tried to bat Draco's hands away from where they hovered around his head. Draco captured them easily and replaced them at his sides. "Don't move!" he scolded Harry.

Harry figured that was good advice. Things appeared to hurt less when he stayed still. Deciding to risk it, he cracked an eye, annoyed to see his vision smeared red where blood had run into it. Draco crouched above him, lips pressed together so firmly, Harry wondered vaguely how Draco had managed to speak. His eyes were red, or maybe that was just Harry's clouded vision, and he looked extremely angry. And something else. Scared.

"Where are my glasses?" he croaked. Draco spared him one look before focusing again on the deep gash by Harry's temple.

"I have no idea."

"I can't see."

"Good. Maybe you'll stay out of trouble that way."

Harry risked a small laugh and then regretted it. His whole ribcage ached. "Why, Draco," he said still panting with the pain, "I didn't know you cared."

When no response was forthcoming, Harry risked another glance at his unlikely rescuer. This time there was no mistaking the moisture in Draco's eyes, and Harry reached up to touch his cheek as the tears spilled over. "I'm all right, Draco," he said, genuinely contrite.

Draco didn't answer, just shook his head, and bit his bottom lip. "You're not all right, Potter."

"How badly did I hurt myself?" Harry asked, assessing himself even as he spoke.

"I don't…I don't know. Merlin, I'm not a healer!"

"All right. All right, calm down," Harry soothed. For a long while, Harry stayed silent while Draco cleaned around the cut on his head. When he had finished, Harry gritted his teeth against the pain and reached for Draco's hand. "It'll be fine, Draco. We'll get through it together. There's bound to be healing potions in the Hospital Wing."

"But I don't know what's wrong with you! I have no idea what to give you!"

Harry heard the fear and uncertainty in Draco's voice. He squeezed Draco's hand, drawing the other boy's eyes to his. "I'm going to be okay," he assured him.

Draco didn't move for a minute, then lunged forward and pressed his lips firmly against Harry's. Even through his pain, Harry could feel the sizzle from the brief contact. "You'd better be," Draco whispered against his mouth.

"I will be," Harry assured him.

That night brought a new focus. Even with the medical books in the library and the well-stocked Hospital stores, some of the healing skills that Harry needed were beyond either of them. As a result, Harry was forced to do most of his healing the natural way – with time.

Draco was no longer bored. He spent hours in the library reading medical texts and perfecting higher level healing spells. He forced Harry to hobble down to the dungeons with him while he brewed healing potions, both simple and complex. Harry took it all in stride. He understood the necessity of it. It had been a hard lesson to learn, but he now realized they were far from prepared to be on their own for any length of time. Plus, he found he loved watching Draco brew potions. In fact, he discovered he loved watching Draco do anything.

Harry's focus also shifted. Draco had been right – he was content here. He hadn't had a single vision about Voldemort since their "arrival", and he found the solitude liberating. There was no boy-who-lived this and boy-who-lived that. Here, with Draco, he was just Harry. But he also wasn't one to idle away time. So while Draco busied himself with becoming their resident healer, Harry began living in the Restricted Section of the library. He soaked up whatever information interested him, mainly defensive spells, which had previously been locked away under the watchful eye of Madame Pince. The truth was, he was looking for something in particular, and in the sixth week after his fall, he found it.

Harry slid off his broom, which he had taken to riding through the halls while his leg healed and entered the Room of Requirement. Draco was already there, and he glanced up as Harry came in.

"I told you, you should be walking on that leg, not riding that bloody broom everywhere. You need to exercise it, or you might lose some range of movement."

"Yes, doctor."

Draco just scowled at him. Harry smiled, happy to be home.

He limped to the couch and collapsed next to Draco. He stretched and leaned his head back against the cushions, and stared at his friend. When Draco's frown grew, Harry knew he was aware of the scrutiny. Feeling playful, Harry reached out and placed a hand on Draco's leg. Very slowly, he began tracing complex patterns over Draco's denim clad thigh.

Watching the color rise in Draco's cheeks and his breathing accelerate was enough to set Harry's own heart pounding. Still, he never changed his soft, teasing touches. Finally, Draco's hand shot out and clamped down on Harry's, stilling it.

"What are you doing?" he asked huskily, as he finally looked over.

Harry smiled. "Touching," he said simply.

When Draco didn't answer, merely stared at him, Harry decided it was time for his surprise. "I've made us something," he said. He turned to dig in his pocket, but he didn't move his other hand from Draco's leg.

When he turned back to Draco, he was holding two small amulets. They looked completely identical to Draco, and he said so.

"They're supposed to be," Harry explained. "I've spelled them that way. One's for you and one's for me." He handed one to Draco.

"What are they for?" Draco asked, curious.

"They're infused with a special monitoring charm. With it, I know exactly where you are all the time, just by concentrating. It will also alert me if you get hurt or are in danger."

Draco's eyes widened. He looked more closely at the small circle of gold. "Will mine do the same thing?" he asked. Harry nodded and Draco grinned. "Just don't get any funny ideas, Potter," he said as he slipped it on. "This doesn't mean we're married or anything."

Harry just smiled enigmatically and rubbed small circles on Draco's leg.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five  
Chocolate Frogs**

  
  
  


 

As spring moved inexorably toward summer, and despite the unending and baffling fluctuation of days and nights, Harry and Draco spent most of their time outside. For weeks, even with the extra protection of the amulets, Draco wouldn't let Harry out of his sight. At first, Harry found it endearing.

But when even a simple flight to Hogsmeade for chocolate was vetoed, Harry put his foot down.

"I need chocolate, Draco."

"Then wish for it." Draco didn't even glance at Harry as he spoke, instead his attention remained fixed on his book, Modern Magical Medical Innovations. When Harry gathered himself to argue, Draco moistened one finger with his tongue, more slowly and with more care than he really needed, and turned a page. Harry's mouth clamped shut.

Draco smiled.

Harry clenched his teeth and stood up. "That's not going to work," he announced, sounding more sure than he felt. "I'm going to Honeydukes. I want Chocolate Frogs."

Draco sighed in exasperation and finally lowered his book to his lap. He knew this wasn't truly about chocolate. Harry wanted some space. And while Draco understood why Harry was feeling stifled, he just wasn't ready to let him go out on his own. Look at his track record to date, for Merlin's sake. It was a statistical impossibility that he wouldn't get into trouble or get hurt. Besides, Honeydukes would be there tomorrow. And the next day. And the chocolate would always be there, sitting prettily in its bins, and it would always be fresh. That was just yet another strange aspect to this whole situation.

Torches never burned out – even the nonmagical ones. Dust didn't collect. Dirt didn't accrue. The food was always fresh. But what had begun as an unnerving phenomenon, and one that left Draco feeling distinctly "out of step" with the rest of the world, soon became a veritable godsend. After all, there were no house elves. Who would have kept things clean? Harry certainly wasn't up to it these days.

Once, in ridiculous, typical Gryffindor fashion, Harry had vowed to sit in the Great Hall all day and just watch. He promised Draco, who frankly couldn't care less, but smiled encouragingly anyway, that he would find out why things never wasted away. And that was the crux of the matter, really. The world around them wasn't decaying at all. It appeared as it always had, empty. And yet, it was as though that emptiness was always only hours old.

Draco had let Harry sit in the Great Hall for an entire hour before rescuing him and taking him outside. Without a word, he had walked in, taken Harry's hand, led him out the front door, down the steps and into the grass. He had pushed Harry onto the spongy lawn and had sat down next to him. Although unusually compliant up till that point, Harry finally demanded an explanation.

"Shhhh," Draco had said. "We're watching the grass grow."

Harry had smiled indulgently while Draco laughed at his own joke. He wasn't laughing four hours later, though, when Harry's jelly-leg jinx finally wore off and he was able to walk again.

Now, Draco sighed and snapped his book shut. History had proven – he still remembered that jelly-leg hex – that perhaps a less condescending method of distraction was more prudent. And he did need to distract Harry. He was not letting him fly to Hogsmeade when his leg was just getting back to normal.

"Harry," he began as he stood up.

"Don't even try to distract me, Draco. It won't work."

Oh, really? "Harry?" he tried again and then paused to make sure he had his roommate's undivided attention. He continued only when Harry raised an eyebrow and gestured for him to continue. Draco smirked. "Harry, why don't you ever kiss me?"

This effort at misdirection wasn't just about distracting Harry. Draco truly wanted to know the answer. It had the added benefit, however, of shocking Harry into forgetting about taking dangerous trips to Hogsmeade in search of Chocolate Frogs.

Draco gave himself a mental pat on the back when he saw it had worked.

Harry stood looking owlishly at Draco, mouth agape. Finally, he managed a bit of verbalization. But not much, Draco noted with amusement. "Do…do you want me to?" he asked.

Hmmm. It wouldn't do to look _too_ needy, and he found that recently he had been uncharacteristically honest with Harry. Very un-Slytherin like, Draco noted with a frown. In fact, it was actually something a Gryffindor would do. He experienced a moment of panic at that.

"Maybe," he shrugged. But when Harry's face fell, he backpedaled without a thought. "Yes," he added. "I do." Damn! Was being a Gryffindor contagious?

But instead of leaping for joy and attacking him, to Draco's great dissapointment, Harry merely cocked his head curiously to one side and asked, "Why?"

Now Draco floundered. "What do you mean?" he asked, stalling for time.

Harry stuffed his hands into his pockets and bit his lip, an adorable habit Draco had noted on many occasions. "Why, Draco? It's a simple question. Three months ago, you were threatening to hex me if I so much as suggested such a thing."

Well, that was true. "I know you better now," Draco said as though that explained everything. And truthfully, didn't it?

To Draco's dismay, Harry frowned. Then he shook his head. Draco experienced a sudden rush of pain and disappointment that he couldn't explain. "Why are you fighting this?" he asked, hating how vulnerable he sounded.

When Harry didn't answer right away, and in fact, seemed on the verge of yet another lengthy, useless speech, Draco acted. He had forgotten about Hogsmeade and Chocolate Frogs. He had forgotten about Modern Magical Medical Innovations. All he wanted was what he had been thinking about nearly non-stop for two months. He wanted to kiss Harry.

He took two long steps and stopped in front of Harry. Less than six inches separated them. Harry's eyes had gone wide and whatever he had been about to say dried up in his throat. Draco reached up and plucked Harry's glasses off his face and tossed them onto the small sofa table.

Then, with infinite tenderness, he cupped both of Harry's cheeks in his hands. For a few seconds, he merely rubbed his thumbs over Harry's cheekbones, enjoying the feel of Harry's skin under the pads of his fingers. Harry's eyes had lost that shocked and confused look. Instead, they were completely shuttered. But they did burn. And it was the burning that interested Draco at the moment.

He inched his face closer to Harry's and brushed their lips together. The contact, brief as it was, ignited something in Harry because he breathed a soft little moan and leaned forward to recapture Draco's lips before he could back away. Harry's kiss was a bit more forceful, connecting them fully. His tongue darted out to trace Draco's lips before he retreated.

Draco's head spun. The slick-soft touch of Harry's tongue sent little lightning strikes shooting to his fingers and toes. This time, he pursued Harry's mouth back, relishing the warmth of his lips before sliding his tongue into Harry's mouth and tasting him thoroughly.

Their game of cat and mouse over, Harry wrapped his arms around Draco and pulled him closer, letting Draco guide the kiss but teasing Draco's tongue with his own. Draco's own hands slipped from Harry's face to circle his neck, pulling their bodies together. When Harry moaned softly into his mouth, Draco felt his knees start to shake.

When they came up for air, Draco leaned his forehead against Harry's. "Please don't go to Hogsmeade alone. I worry about something happening to you." As soon as the words were out, he wished to take them back. They were too honest, too truthful, and laid open his feelings too publicly for Draco's taste. Embarrassed, he tried to pull away from their shared embrace, but Harry held him stubbornly close. He waited until Draco gave up squirming, and then coaxed his head up so their eyes could meet. Harry stared at Draco a long time, his gaze unreadable. Then he nodded. "All right," he agreed. "I won't go."

Although Draco would have normally cheered at his victory, at the moment he was too interested in prolonging his enjoyment of Harry. But when he leaned in again, Harry turned away and Draco's mouth connected with the side of his neck instead. Groaning, he latched on to the tender skin above the collarbone and began to suck gently. Harry gasped and tried to pull away – with very little success.

"Oh, gods. Draco, wait."

But Draco was beyond waiting. He'd already waited longer than a Malfoy should have to. He wanted Harry. Sensing Harry struggling half-heartedly against him, he bit down gently on his neck. Harry gasped again and his knees gave way, too weak to support him through the rush of sensations coursing through his body. Draco didn't waste the opportunity. He lowered Harry to the floor and settled on top of him. Harry's bed was only a few feet away, but frankly, Draco couldn't be bothered to move; the writhing body underneath him felt too extraordinary.

Harry whimpered at the feeling of Draco's weight on him, but something was niggling at his brain. It was the same something that had convinced him kissing Draco was not a good idea. Well, that had obviously been a lie, so Harry discounted the bothersome something as being unreliable and untrustworthy. Kissing Draco was not bad. Nothing had every felt better, in fact. Nothing before had ever set his body on fire this quickly and kept it burning so effortlessly. This wasn't bad. It wasn't wrong. Harry sighed against Draco's mouth.

It was Nirvana. On the floor, between two perfectly good beds. Nirvana.

Two beds. Damn! Harry sat up, dislodging Draco, who cried out indignantly at being displaced. "Draco," he blurted. "Why do you think I wanted us to sleep in separate beds?"

"Because you're a repressed idiot!"

Harry shook his head and got up. Draco's frustrated moan followed him across the room. "What, Potter!" he demanded, raising himself up on his elbows. "What's wrong now?"

Harry spun around. "How do you know this is real?"

"I've never had a dream that lasted for three months before?" Draco shot back sarcastically.

"No, you prat!" Harry growled and dropped onto the couch. "How do you know this…" he gestured nervously between the two of them, "…is real."

"I'm not following you," Draco growled back, trying unsuccessfully to make his suddenly tight pants more comfortable.

Harry slumped back against the couch, suddenly very tired. "We could be alone the rest or our lives, Draco. Have you thought about that?"

"Of course." More often than he liked to admit.

"So are we doing this because we have no one else but each other?"

Draco pursed his lips. "Would it matter?"

Harry's mouth dropped open in shock. "Yes!" he whispered, scandalized. "It matters to me," he added.

Draco got up. He was angry. Livid, actually. It figured Harry would have the morals of a saint! He told Harry so.

Harry looked back at him sadly. "In a way, you're right, Draco. It does seem selfish, doesn't it?" He got up and started pacing the floor, so Draco took the abandoned seat on the couch, and pouted like a small child.

"I mean," Harry was saying, "here I have most everything I've ever wanted in my life. Freedom to do as I like. Most of the time," he added, giving Draco a dirty look as he passed. "I don't have to worry about people trying to kill me. I don't have to sneak around under a glamour because of this damned scar. Finally, finally…I'm not being manipulated like some pawn on a chessboard." He stopped and dropped into a chair. "I can even sleep at night without being haunted by nightmares of torture and death." He looked over at Draco who was watching him with wide eyes. "Why should I cling to ridiculous notions like true love and soul mates?" Harry got up and started his restless pacing again. Finally, he ended up by the window. He never looked back at Draco but Draco's eyes never left him.

"It is selfish," he admitted, almost to himself. "I've been so wrapped up in this newfound…peace…I hadn't given a second thought to how horrible this must be for you." At last, he turned from the window and faced Draco across the wide expanse of the room. "I'm sorry, Draco. We'll do it your way." With a small flick of his hand, the two beds were gone and a newer, larger one stood in their place.

Draco was spinning. He refused to admit to himself that his inability to answer was due to the thickness of his throat or the tightness in his chest. Fuck, he thought. Fuck Harry and his emotional hang-ups. Fuck Lucius, and his cruel, cold ways. Fuck every Gryffindor ever born. Especially the ones who dared let their disgusting Gryffindor-ish traits rub off on others. He tried to hold on to his anger. He felt it was a righteous anger after all, but despite his best efforts, it flitted away like the flying, drifting leaves of autumn.

He stood up, and with a flick of his own hand, the separate beds were back.

"No, Harry," he said solemnly. "We'll do it your way."

Over the following months, Harry and Draco learned a lot about each other. They talked about their childhoods. They talked about school. They talked about fears and dreams, and they talked about hopes and goals. They spoke of life and death. And these were the easy conversations.

And that was because, Draco knew, they were abstract.

He made Harry his project. He "set aside" Modern Magical Medical Innovations and "picked up" Harry Potter. He wasn't quite sure why trying to give Harry what he wanted was so important; it just was. And if Harry wanted a deeper connection, then Draco would strive to provide one. So, he drew Harry into conversation during the day, and stroked himself to furious and powerful orgasms every night – after he was sure Harry was asleep.

It wouldn't do to have Harry hear Draco whimpering his name.

But while the abstract conversations were informative, they didn't dig deep into closed off, hidden areas of the heart. And since for Draco, as well as Harry, those places were still fresh and bled easily, those conversations were held at night – in the safety and anonymity of the dark.

"Draco?"

"Hmmm?"

"Why are you so…ambivalent toward your father all of a sudden?"

Draco sighed, the sound carrying across the room like a whisper.

"It's not all of a sudden. You just didn't know about it before."

When Harry remained quiet, Draco continued. "He wanted me to take the Mark."

A small gasp. "You're too young!"

"Yes. But – he felt me slipping away, I think. It was a decision born of desperation." Draco paused. "I was to take it over Easter."

"Were you going to?"

After another long pause, Draco answered. "No."

"How was he going to do that from Azkaban?"

"My mother."

When Harry's voice echoed back, it sounded incredulous. "She would—"

"Yes," Draco interrupted. "She would."

For many minutes, the only sound was the settling of the logs in the dying fire. Then Harry spoke.

"I'm sorry, Draco."

_Shut up-fuck off-I don't want your sympathy_ , he thought. _Liar, liar, liar_ , Draco yelled at the voice in his head. He gulped back his tears. "Thanks," he whispered.

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

"What did you see in your nightmares?"

"They were visions."

Draco frowned in the dark as he pondered this. "You mean they were really going to happen?" he asked.

"They were happening as I saw them," Harry replied in a rough voice.

Draco rolled over and propped himself up on his elbow. "Will you tell me about them?"

For several minutes, Harry didn't answer. Draco was disappointed, but he wasn't going to push the issue. But just as he sat back against his pillow, Harry finally spoke.

"I'll tell you," he said, and Draco frowned at how small his voice sounded. "But…" he continued.

"But what?" Draco coaxed.

Harry took a deep, shuddering breath. "Can I come over there? While we talk?"

Draco caught his breath. "Of course."

A slight rustling of sheets, a few soft footfalls, and then Harry was there. Draco opened his arms and Harry came into them. When Draco had Harry wrapped snugly in his embrace, he brushed a light kiss over the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. Harry tensed and Draco cursed his slip. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"It's okay," Harry replied. His breath tickled Draco's neck. "Most people don't like to touch it."

"I thought…."

"They like to stare at it. No one likes to touch it."

Draco shook his head. The stupidity of the average person never ceased to amaze him. He brushed another light kiss over the puckered skin, and Harry sighed.

That night, Draco held Harry while he poured out the ugly and painful memories. Some of the horrible things he had seen sickened Draco. But he had heard similar stories from his father. When Harry woke several hours later, Draco was still awake, staring out the tiny slit in the heavy curtains they had been forced to put up to combat the erratic days and nights.

"Didn't you sleep?" Harry called softly across the room.

Draco jumped slightly at Harry's voice, and it took a moment for the question to penetrate. "Yes," he lied.

The truth was, though, he had spent several hours simply staring out the window – praying to whatever gods had sent them to this place – and thanking them.

Draco rushed through the dungeons. He cursed himself for falling asleep, undoubtedly a side effect of not sleeping the night before, but now the potion he had been brewing was overdue to have the Doxie wings added. He had been working on it for over a week, and if it was ruined, he planned on having a spectacular temper tantrum.

He was extremely distracted as he raced down the stairs, and so when he crashed pell-mell through the door and into the Potions lab and saw Severus standing behind the workbench, he actually screamed.

Severus looked up when Draco entered and his eyes widened in astonishment. He dropped the ladle he was holding and raised one hand in Draco's direction. Horrified, Draco saw that Severus actually looked transparent.

'Draco?' Severus mouthed, and Draco realized that although he couldn't hear what his godfather had said, he recognized his name on the man's lips. Ghost-Severus moved around the workbench and approached Draco warily, hand still outstretched. 'Draco?' he mouthed again as he drew closer, both shock and fear in his eyes.

"Severus?" Draco whispered, and tentatively extended his own shaking hand toward his godfather. When they were mere inches from touching, the door crashed open behind Draco.

"Draco!" Harry yelled. Draco's head spun around toward Harry as the other boy raced to his side. "What is it? Are you all right?" he panted. "The amulet…it…" Harry stopped next to Draco and laid a hand on his shoulder as he tried to catch his breath.

As soon as Harry touched him, Draco swung his gaze back toward Severus. But he was gone.

"Draco?" Harry's hand was on his face and was turning it toward him. He tried again to get Draco's attention, terrified by his pasty complexion and wide, dilated eyes. "What happened?" he asked as Draco started to calm.

Draco shook his head and turned into Harry's arms. "Shit, shit, shit," he murmured into Harry's neck as Harry rubbed his back. He allowed himself the reassuring comfort for another minute before he drew away. Reluctantly, Harry let him go.

"I saw Severus," he croaked.

"What?" Harry exclaimed. "Where is he?" he asked as he looked around the lab.

"He wasn't really here," Draco said, but before he could say more, the dizziness got the better of him, spots formed in front of his eyes, and the floor rushed up to meet him.

Harry caught him effortlessly, lowering him gently to the floor and pushing his head between his legs. "Just take it easy, Draco," he said with a tremor in his voice.

"Oh, gods, Harry," Draco moaned. "Am I going crazy?"

Harry wasn't sure how to answer. So he didn't. Draco raised his head enough to glare at him. "What, no pithy comeback?"

His voice still trembling, Harry said, "I'm thinking."

"Think harder! I'm waiting on some proof here that I'm not losing my mind!"

"Well, you're as whiny as ever, but I'm not sure what that means."

Draco laughed, trying not to notice the hysterical edge of it, and smacked Harry's arm. "How did you know I was in trouble?" he asked as he then rubbed apologetically at the spot he had hit.

Harry leaned forward and buried his face in Draco's silky hair. "The amulet. It burned the shit out of me. I thought you were dying, for Merlin's sake!"

"Well, lucky for you it was merely my mental faculties failing."

"Draco, maybe what you saw was…."

"Don't say it," Draco warned as Harry helped him up. Affectionately, Harry brushed at Draco's sweater, freeing the loose dirt it had collected from the floor.

"You don't even know what I was going to say."

"Bet me."

"You have to admit the possibility that what you saw was real," Harry said as they sat later, sipping hot chocolate in their room.

Draco was cocooned in a warm blanket and snuggled up between Harry's legs on the couch. "I'm sure I told you NOT to mention that," he groused as he blew across the steaming liquid. Harry just rolled his eyes. Idly, he played with Draco's hair as he ran his fingers over his shoulders, massaging them gently.

After a few minutes of that, however, Draco shifted uncomfortably and tried to pull away from Harry's hands. Harry caught him by the upper arms. "Where are you going?" he asked softly.

Draco shut his eyes against a rush of desire. Harry's voice was rich and thick, just like the melted chocolate they were drinking, and its deep tones, on top of his touch, forced Draco's arousal to an even higher level. He knew he had to get away from Harry immediately before he embarrassed himself. He had managed to keep their contact purely platonic these last couple of months, but that's not to say it had been an easy task.

"Just, for another blanket."

"Wish for it."

"And some more chocolate."

"Wish for it."

"I have to go to the bathroom," Draco lied, starting to panic when Harry's grip didn't loosen.

"Draco."

Draco actually moaned. "What?"

"I want you."

Draco held his breath. Sweet Merlin, had he heard that right? "Harry…" he warned.

"I'm tired of fighting this, Draco," Harry purred in his ear and Draco's heart skipped erratically both at the sound of his voice and the words themselves.

"Harry…" he breathed, and allowed himself to melt back into Harry's embrace.

"I want you," Harry repeated and wandlessly vanished the mugs of chocolate from their hands. Draco smirked.

"Someone's been practicing," he said as he twisted in Harry's arms until he was facing the other boy.

"There's a lot I can do without my wand now." Harry nibbled on his ear.

"That's nice, Harry. But frankly I'm only interested in what you can do _with_ your wand."

Harry buried his face in Draco's neck as he laughed. "You're awfully crude for a Malfoy," he teased.

Draco's eyes sparkled. "Let me show you just how crude a Malfoy can be."

Harry laughed all the way to bed.

"Harry?"

"Hmmmm."

"Let's leave."

"Can't move," Harry complained, face buried in his pillow.

"Not now, you twit. I meant later."

Harry peaked at Draco through one eye. "How much later?"

"Tomorrow?"

He had Harry's full attention now. Harry rolled over with a groan and pushed the unruly hair out of his eyes. "Where do you want to go?" he asked, as he pulled a sheet up over himself.

Draco pouted as his pretty view was covered. "I don't care," he said. "But I want to leave Hogwarts." He rolled on his pillow to face Harry. "Didn't you say you wanted to read that book you found a reference to in the library?"

Harry snorted. "Draco, that book is archived in Paris, France."

Draco just smiled.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six  
Explanation and Decision**

  
  
  


 

People talked about Paris in the spring. Only this wasn't spring, it was autumn. Still, to Harry it was lovely. And it was made all the more so by its silent streets, its lazy river, and its ambiance of romance that remained even when its occupants were gone.

Harry stood on the Pont du Carousel Bridge, gazing out at the waters of the Seine, and sighed deeply in contentment. Gone were the old fears of the past. The fears of the emptiness and the unpredictable passage of time. Harry had already seen the sun set and rise once while he had stood there, and it had been breathtaking.

Straightening, he arched his back, feeling the muscles beneath his shirt flex. This was his and Draco's third visit to Paris since they had left Hogwarts three years ago. Draco had a fondness for the place, and Harry didn't mind. He loved it as well. In the three years since their first visit, they had traveled constantly. By mutual agreement, they had not returned to Hogwarts. They had seen Europe, the Far East, and Africa. They had traveled to the United States and South America. Each destination would temporarily quench their thirst for new knowledge and experiences, and then they would be off again to somewhere new.

As Harry stood there, thoughts wandering, he felt his amulet begin to grow warm. Smiling, he waited for Draco to announce his presence. When he did so by sliding his arms around Harry and resting his chin on his shoulder, Harry sighed again and Draco echoed it.

"How long have you been standing here?" Draco asked, punctuating his question with an open mouthed kiss to Harry's neck.

"Awhile." Harry smiled, closed his eyes, and leaned his head back against Draco's shoulder, giving his lover better access to his throat. But to his disappointment, Draco moved away.

Harry turned, confusion and concern in his eyes. "You all right, Dray?"

"MmmmHmmm," Draco replied. He stood silently for a few moments, and Harry waited, knowing Draco had something else to say.

"I think I'm ready to leave," Draco said carefully, not looking Harry in the eye.

Harry frowned. "We just got here." He turned fully to face Draco. "What's wrong?"

Draco sighed. "Nothing, Harry."

Harry raised an eyebrow at the obvious lie. Draco rolled his eyes. "Fine. Yes, there is something wrong, but I can't put my finger on it." He slumped against the stone barrier. "I thought it was the right thing to do, to come here. I mean, we've always enjoyed it here. I had hoped…." His voice trailed off.

Harry was confused, but when Draco didn't continue right away, he prompted him to go on. "You had hoped what?" he asked. When Draco remained silent, Harry frowned. Now he was worried.

In all their travels, Draco's appetite for learning had never flagged. He was second to Harry in magical power, true, but Harry wondered sometimes if they were to be transplanted back to the real world tomorrow, how many witches or wizards could stand against Draco. Over the past few years, he had accompanied Harry in every endeavor to supplement their knowledge and power. It was only Harry's stronger magical signature, although Draco's was nothing to sneeze at, that gave Harry the greater edge in their duels.

Harry took the two steps that separated them and pulled Draco into his arms, reveling in the feel of his lean, muscular body. He was larger and more solid than when their relationship had been new. It was the inevitable result of years of intense physical training that Draco has insisted upon, and Harry had gone along with to make his lover happy. He couldn't deny they were both in excellent shape, and frankly, some of the "workouts" Draco conceived were quite fun.

"What are you thinking about?" Draco asked against his shoulder. He let his hands slip down Harry's back to rest on his hips. Harry turned to nuzzle his neck.

"What do you think?"

Draco made a disgusted sound and pushed Harry away. "I'm trying to have a serious conversation here, and all you can think about is getting into my pants." He turned away again, crossed his arms and pouted.

Harry bit his lip to hold back his laughter. Pouty Draco was no fun, and laughing would only make it worse – Harry knew that by now. "I'm sorry, Dray," he said, sidling up behind him again. He turned Draco around to face him. "Talk to me," he said seriously.

Draco sighed and shook his head. "Forget it. I can't explain it. I just feel…as though something is about to happen…and it's not good."

Harry couldn't help but be concerned. Draco's intuition was flawless. Actually, Harry had often considered suggesting that Draco had a touch of foresight, but didn't relish the verbal beating that would result, so he had wisely remained silent. It wouldn't do to compare Draco Malfoy with Sybil Trelawney. At least not out loud.

"Do you want to leave?" Harry asked, silently dreading the answer. They had apparated in just yesterday by Harry's reckoning, although three quick days had passed since then if you counted how many times the sun had risen and set. And Harry was tired. It had been a long trip from Istanbul, and the trip had taken several hours and five separate apparation jumps.

Draco seemed to sense his reluctance. "No," he said quietly, taking Harry's hand in his and squeezing it. "We're both tired. That would be madness." He smiled, but Harry could tell it was forced. "It's probably nothing."

Harry tried to smile back, but Draco's confession had made him edgy. Seeing how he had made Harry uncomfortable, Draco stepped back into his arms. "Shall we go home?" he said, voice husky. He let his hands wander from Harry's hips to his lower back, pulling Harry against him suggestively.

"I thought you'd never ask," Harry said, his frown being replaced with a genuine smile. "Can we walk or are you going to make me run, slave driver?" he teased.

Draco's own mood was improving by the second. "Screw that. Let's apparate."

Harry's look of mock-shock had Draco smacking him on the arm. "Apparate?" Harry asked, scandalized. "That's no way to get any exercise!"

"You'll get your exercise, Potter!" Draco said, but he was laughing too. "Hang on." He stepped close to Harry, wrapped him in his arms, and they disapparated.

They appeared with a loud crack in their small bedroom. They had taken to staying in the same house when they were in Paris. The familiarity was comforting and the small house they had chosen was homey and welcoming.

Draco wasted no time. Before Harry had even regained his equilibrium, he had unbuttoned Harry's jeans and slid them down over his hips. Harry made a move to slow him down so Draco kissed him forcefully, demanding with his tongue that his lover open for him. After a moment of silent protest, Harry did.

He remained completely passive as Draco ripped at his clothing ineffectually, and then with a curse, banished them when they refused to cooperate. He didn't protest when Draco pushed him down onto the soft mattress, nor when Draco covered him like a blanket and began licking and biting his way down his body. He opened his legs when he was urged to and pulled Draco between them with little prompting.

After a hasty preparation that Draco knew was probably insufficient, he buried himself inside Harry, cringing at his lack of self-control and silently begging for Harry to forgive him.

He lay still for a moment, trembling with desire and love, using every ounce of his self-control to stem his need while he waited for Harry to adjust. But within a matter of seconds, Harry was reaching up for him. He pulled Draco down and wrapped his arms and legs tightly around him. Kissing Draco gently on his cheek, he turned to whisper in his ear.

"You don't need to worry about hurting me. I will always be here for what you need. Don't hold back, love."

At those words, Draco's control broke and he began to thrust hard and fast. All of the tension and worries he had been carrying around for the past weeks disappeared as the physical connection and the emotional bond they shared was reaffirmed. He cursed under his breath when he felt his climax approach too quickly, knowing Harry couldn't be ready. But to his surprise, within seconds Harry was gasping his name and arching into the contact as his orgasm ripped through him. Draco couldn't hold out against the sound and feel of Harry reaching his peak, and with a long, loud moan he let go, spilling himself inside his lover.

When Draco came back to himself, he felt Harry running long fingers through his hair. Mortified at his behavior, Draco tried to roll away, but Harry held him securely and refused to let him go.

"Feel better?" he asked, shifting his body so that Draco was lying beside him.

"No," Draco said, his voice filled with self-disgust. "I feel like a real bastard." Finally, he raised his head to look his lover in the eye. "Are you all right?"

Harry smiled and continued to tenderly comb his fingers through Draco's blond locks. "I'm fine."

They both sighed and settled in to enjoy the afterglow. Just as Draco was drifting off, he felt Harry's breath tickle his ear and heard his whispered words.

"Love you, Dray. Don't worry. Nothing's going to change."

Draco felt his jaw tense, and already the familiar coil of worry was working its way back into the pit of his stomach. He pulled Harry closer, but said nothing.

The city of Paris housed the International Magical Archive. Harry and Draco had spent countless days over the past three years pouring over the oldest and most powerful books in the Archive's own Restricted Section. The first time they had come, at the tender age of seventeen, the wards on the room had been too powerful for them to break, even together.

The next time they returned, they did so with an additional year's worth of learning and experience. Harry's power had grown exponentially in that short period of time, and he dismantled the wards in thirty seconds flat. Without Draco's help. Gloating, he had opened the doors with a flourish, and if Draco hadn't been so excited to finally be inside, he would have made a caustic comment about Harry's arrogance.

Today, Draco was pouring over an ancient text on medicine, still his greatest passion, when Harry appeared beside him, pale and shaken. Draco was on his feet immediately, steadying the young wizard and leading him to a chair.

"What is it?"

Harry didn't answer right away, just shook his head and lowered himself to the chair. Draco forced himself to hold his tongue, knowing Harry would speak when he was able. He knew Harry was in no immediate danger – the amulet would have alerted him to that.

"Harry?" he asked tentatively, kneeling in front of him and taking Harry's cold hands in his. Finally, Harry focused on him. Slowly, he reached out to touch Draco's cheek, caressing with his fingertips before cupping the side of Draco's face in his hand. Draco felt the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stand up as a cold fear washed over him. "Harry?" he asked again, his voice trembling.

It might have been the trembling that broke Harry's trance. Draco was never sure. But suddenly he stood, and taking Draco's hand, pulled him along toward the rear of the room. As they passed row after row of books, the musty smell of old parchment became stronger, until finally Draco was struggling not to gag on the cloying stench. When they finally reached the last shelf, Harry stopped. He still hadn't spoken, and his silence was making Draco breathlessly afraid.

Shooting Draco one last look, Harry bent and picked up a book off the floor. Draco wondered what it was doing there, when Harry spoke. "I dropped it. When I saw…when I saw this." Turning to the appropriate page, Harry flipped the book around and presented it to Draco.

At first, Draco didn't understand what he was looking at. It was a hand-drawn picture, crudely scrawled onto the page, tightly packed words written around it. The writing was so small and faded, Draco could barely make it out. But it wasn't the writing Harry was pointing to – it was the picture.

It was of a square room, completely empty except for a light that seemed to shine from the ceiling and illuminate a perfect circle on the floor. Next to the light, a woman stood with her arm outstretched toward it. Draco stared at the picture a long time, willing himself to see what Harry had seen. Trying to understand why such an innocuous image would scare him so. Then Harry spoke.

"It's beautiful."

And Draco's memory came flooding back. _"Whatever it is, it's locked up in here for a reason. I don't think we should get any closer."_

_"Afraid of a little light, Potter? And here I thought you were its servant."_

_"Sod off, Malfoy! At least I walk in the light, instead of leaving a trail of slime through the shadows."_

_"If I were you, I wouldn't speak about things you know nothing about."_

Draco's knees gave way and he slumped to the floor, still cradling the book in his hands. He ran shaking fingers over the page and barely noticed when Harry's fingers joined his.

"How could I have forgotten this?" Draco rasped, still reeling.

Harry withdrew his fingers from the page and ran them through his hair. "I just remembered myself," he admitted quietly.

Draco didn't protest when Harry joined him on the floor. And he certainly didn't mind when Harry slipped an arm behind him, wrapping it around his waist, and laid his head on Draco's shoulder. Draco didn't speak, however. His mind was racing, trying to puzzle through both the old memories and the new information. But no answers came, and Draco turned his head to press his lips into Harry's hair, taking comfort from that one familiar gesture.

"Do you want me to read it to you?" Harry asked softly and Draco was tempted to scream 'no'. Was in fact tempted to throw the book across the room, leave, and never return. The small feeling of trepidation he had been nursing for weeks bloomed into full-fledged panic.

"Yes," he said, with little enthusiasm. "I guess." After all, the search for the answer to their predicament had never stopped. In fact, it had been that question that had prompted their first trip here. And in all the months and years that followed, they had never given up their quest.

But now, as Draco continued to finger the yellowing parchment, he wondered just how long they had been lying to themselves. Saying the words, but not meaning them. How long, he thought to himself, had they known in their hearts that they didn't want to understand what had happened – and that they never wanted to go back.

"Do you really want to read it?" Draco asked, turning to look at Harry.

Harry bit his lip and looked away. "I already have," he admitted.

Draco swallowed past the sudden dryness in his mouth. He had no choice then. He refused to let Harry bear the knowledge alone. "All right," he said in a hoarse voice. "Tell me."

"Don't you want to read it yourself?"

"No. I want you to do it."

Harry nodded. Taking a deep breath and running his fingers through his hair once more, he reached for the book. Draco handed it over reluctantly. Harry placed his finger at the top of the page, but he didn't begin speaking right away.

Draco waited, suddenly aware of the vast emptiness around them. He could feel the press of the empty room, and beyond that, the empty building, and further beyond that, the empty city. For the first time in over two years, the silence made Draco uneasy. It wasn't a comfortable feeling. It had been many long months since Draco and Harry had feared anything.

He reached down to link his hand with Harry's and his lover eagerly accepted the contact. Then he began to read.

 

> > > _"The Light of Losirin, named for the witch who invented it, Lucinda Losirin, has been lost for many centuries."_

 

"Lost, my ass." Draco mumbled.

 

> > > _"It is in fact, not a light at all, but a doorway, opening to a different world. One that is minutely out of step with time as we know it. Lucinda Losirin was an extraordinarily powerful witch, but a recluse who suffered from a crippling fear of contact with others. Unable to stray from her home to explore the world as she so desired to do, she invented the Light to combat her problem._
>>> 
>>> "Stepping briefly into the circle and out again, Lucinda claimed she would emerge into a dimension equal to the one she had left in every way except one: she would be completely alone.
>>> 
>>> "Were it not for one researcher's eyewitness account of this phenomenon, the Light would remain a myth to this day. A fellow academic and friend chronicled watching Lucinda step into the circle and disappear into thin air. And while Lucinda claimed she would return, and a yearlong vigil commenced, she never did. It was during the following year that the Light, arguably the most powerful magical device of its time, disappeared. The claim that the Light would actually alter the temporal plane and allow an individual to exist just outside of it has never been verified or accepted by the wizarding community.
>>> 
>>> "Since the truth will most likely never be known, and records from that time are sparse, the existence of the Light of Losirin remains questionable." 

 

For a long time after Harry had finished reading, they sat silently, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally Draco spoke, his voice sounding lost.

"Do you think she just decided not to return? Or that she found that she couldn't when she tried?"

"I think," Harry said absently, matching Draco's quiet tone, "that it's possible she forgot all about it, like we did. Perhaps that's a side-effect of using it."

Draco didn't respond for a long time. He kept Harry's hand in his, absently running his thumb over their entwined fingers. When he did finally look at Harry, and Harry raised his eyes to meet Draco's, he found his next words lodging in this throat. On the third try, he finally pushed them out.

"It's still there, isn't it? In the dungeons. At Hogwarts. In that room we got trapped in." If Harry was shocked at the venom and bitterness in Draco's voice, he didn't comment.

"Probably," Harry said neutrally.

"So technically, according to this," he waved weakly at the book nestled in Harry's lap, "We could just go back and step back through. Everything would be back to…the way it used to be."

"Maybe," Harry hedged. "We don't know."

"Has the same amount of time passed…over there?"

"I don't know, Dray." Harry sounded upset and exasperated.

"Well, why don't you know," Draco snapped. "You know just about everything. You're probably more powerful than Dumbledore by now. Why don't you know?" Draco jumped up, jerking his hand from Harry's and proceeded to pace up and down the aisle. Harry just watched him sadly.

This was it, Draco realized. The reason for his nebulous feeling of dread these past weeks. Here was their chance to regain everything they had lost. The truth, however, and what Draco should have accepted long ago, was that he didn't want to go back. He hadn't left behind anything of great importance. Certainly nothing like what he would be giving up now. And that was his biggest and deepest fear: that he would lose Harry, when and if they returned.

He hadn't realized he had stopped pacing and was standing still, letting the horror of that thought wash over him, until Harry's arms came around him and pulled him back against his chest. Draco let his head drop, ashamed of the tears in his eyes.

"Draco?" Harry's tremulous voice was right next to his ear. When Draco didn't immediately answer, Harry's embrace tightened and he dropped his forehead onto Draco's shoulder.

"If it's truly what you want, I'll go back. But…please, please promise me…promise me you won't leave me. No matter what happens."

Draco caught his breath. He turned in Harry's arms, shocked to see matching tears in the bright green eyes. "For the love of Merlin, Potter! What makes you think I would ever do that?"

Harry stared at Draco intently for several seconds. "I don't want to lose this," he said finally, stroking warm fingers down Draco's cheek, leaving little question as to what exactly he didn't want to lose.

"Well, neither do I."

After another moment of intense scrutiny, Harry dropped his eyes and nodded. He noticed he was still holding the battered book. Draco saw where Harry's eyes came to rest, and he reached forward and plucked the book from his hand. Giving Harry a soft, lingering kiss as he passed, he returned the book to an empty slot on the shelf.

By mutual agreement, they left the Archive, opting to spend the rest of the day outside along the river.

Over the next two years, the book, the light and the knowledge of both were never spoken of again. Harry and Draco continued to travel, continued to learn, and continued to cement their bond, which may have been formed out of necessity but continued out of love.

It was a peaceful life, enviable even, and for Harry and Draco, it felt perfect.

Until the nightmares started.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven  
Shades of the Past**

  
  
  


 

Thick, black smoke poured from the windows of the burning house. From inside, Harry could hear the tortured screams of the children, the sound a high-pitched counterpoint to the cries of their parents who were writhing under the Cruciatus on the grass outside.

"Finite Incantatum," a raspy voice spoke, and both the man and woman collapsed limply. Until the pitiful yells of their children came again, and then they were both crying out in denial and struggling to crawl toward the raging inferno that had been their home.

"Stupid, stupid," the voice chided. "Crucio." Again, the curse had them convulsing on the ground.

Harry tried to run toward the house, but found he couldn't move. All he could do was watch helplessly and shed silent tears for the children whose voices finally fell silent as the walls of the house collapsed inward. A gigantic fireball shot up into the sky as the house caved in, illuminating the dew-damp grass of the large yard, and Harry got his first clear look at his surroundings.

Voldemort stood on the lawn facing the house, his face upturned in bliss as the fire consumed the quaint dwelling and its tiny prisoners. His robes flowed and snapped in a brisk wind. Forming a perfect circle around him stood his Death Eaters. Each one stood impassively as the Cruciatus was finally lifted from the young couple, and Voldemort turned from the house to face them. He lifted his arms and fixed the two with a piercing, red-eyed stare.

"You see, Ronald. No longer do you have a reason to withhold your allegiance from me. No longer are you bound with the responsibilities of your family. For they are no more." Voldemort cackled loudly, and a soft answering wave of laughter echoed around the circle.

"You bastard! I will kill you!" the man yelled as he struggled to his feet. His voice held both the telltale rasp of tears and a poisonous anger. Hate seemed to bleed from his every pore as he faced the Dark Lord over the prone body of his wife.

"I think not," Voldemort answered.

The man dropped to his knees and pulled the woman into his arms. "Hermione," he whispered and Harry gasped. Again, he tried to run forward, but was unable. All he could do was watch passively. As Voldemort circled the couple lazily, moving behind them, the light from the blazing fire illuminated their faces, and Harry felt his heart stall.

Ron Weasley knelt on the grass. In his arms, Hermione stirred and raised a trembling hand to her husband's face. "The children," she said breathlessly. Ron shook his head and buried it in his wife's brown hair.

"I have been extraordinarily patient," Voldemort drawled. He stopped circling and came to stand directly in front of the broken couple. "Resolve has abandoned the side of the Light. No one comes to your rescue tonight. No one will dare. You have lost your battle. Will you join me?"

Hermione wrapped her arms around Ron and turned to glare at her children's murderer. "Never," she hissed. "Never."

Voldemort's scaly face broke into a maniacal grin, and his eyes turned crimson, glowing unnaturally. "As you wish," he replied and raised his wand toward them.

"No!" Harry shouted at the top of his lungs. But no one moved, no one heard him. In a panic, he yelled toward the circle of Death Eaters. "Severus, please. If you're there, do something!" Not a single figure moved. "Something," Harry whispered.

Ron and Hermione did not cower. They faced their impending death bravely, but with shattered hearts. Voldemort spoke the killing curse, and a putrid green light spilled from his wand, enveloping Harry's two best friends.

"Nooooo!"   
  


* * *

 

 

"Harry!"

Harry came awake, thrashing and screaming. Suddenly he was tackled and pinned to the bed by another warm body. In a panic, still in the throes of his nightmare, Harry struggled against the restraining weight, but was unable to free himself.

He started to call on his magic, when a voice began speaking soothingly into his ear.

"Harry, Harry. Stop. It was just a nightmare. It's okay. Harry, please."

As Draco's voice penetrated his brain, Harry released the hold on his magic, letting it ebb away from his center, where it had been gathering in preparation to strike.

"Harry, can you hear me?"

Draco loosened his grip on Harry's arms and eased off his body as Harry relaxed beneath him.

"Yes," Harry croaked, his voice still hoarse from screaming. Draco slid to the side and pulled Harry into a tight embrace. Lovingly, he smoothed the sweat slick hair from Harry's brow and rubbed slow circles on his back. For a long time, neither spoke.

Harry rubbed his face back and forth across Draco's chest. The only sound in the room was the slow tick tock of the mantle clock and the occasional hiss and pop of the dying fire. Draco didn't ask about the nightmare right away, and for that Harry was eternally grateful. He sighed deeply against Draco's chest, enjoying his lover's scent and the solid feel of his arms. When his heartbeat had finally slowed, and he was able to examine the images from the dream in a somewhat detached manner, he tilted his head up and kissed Draco's neck, letting his lips linger on the soft skin of his throat.

Draco knew then it was all right to speak.

"That's the third one this week."

Harry nodded, but stayed mute.

"And the worst by far."

Despite his fatigue, a result of several interrupted nights of sleep, Harry felt wide-awake. In fact, the thought of sleep, of more nightmares, made his skin crawl. "Yes," he agreed. "They're getting worse."

Draco sighed tiredly and brushed his lips over Harry's forehead. When they accidentally touched his scar, Harry winced. Beside him, Draco stilled. "Did that hurt?" he asked, all traces of sleepiness gone from his voice.

Harry shut his eyes tightly against a wave of guilt before answering, "No."

When he felt the tension in his lover's body ease, he breathed a mental sigh of relief. He hated lying to Draco. It was a miracle, frankly, that he was able to. Draco always saw through his little untruths, knew his methods of evasion. But for some reason, since the nightmares had started a couple of weeks ago, his scar had begun to ache constantly. So far he had been able to keep the truth from his lover. In the beginning, he had rationalized his deception, telling himself it made no sense to alarm Draco over nothing. But as the nightmares continued, and grew in intensity and detail, he became too afraid to say anything at all, fearing the verbalization of the situation would force him to accept the truth of what was happening.

His visions were back. After five years of peace. They were back.

They were different though, in an important way. Although Harry could see the events occurring around Voldemort, he didn't have that familiar feeling of being inside the monster. Instead, he remained a passive observer. Further, Harry dreamt of many horrible things that didn't feature Voldemort at all, although the ugliness of the dream always reeked of his dark taint.

People murdered, tortured and raped. Bleak meetings of the Order, where the members would sit around the table listlessly, eyes dead, and offer no solutions – no plan. A shuttered Hogwarts, classes held deep in the relative safety of the dungeons, where the students never saw the light of day. A society tired, frightened, and even worse, resigned to the darkness gathering around them.

How could he tell Draco these things? He couldn't write these nightmares off as anxiety dreams as he had in the past. Two years ago, he had harbored immense amounts of repressed guilt for not returning when he knew he could have. He had suffered through nightmares during that period as well, but had come through it stronger and surer of himself than ever before. He had made peace with his decision to stay, to turn his back on a world that had asked too much of him. One that had ripped nearly everything good from his life.

He wouldn't let them take Draco too.

That's why every morning he turned to his lover and lied through his teeth about the seriousness of the nightmares. He refused to open the issue between them. And that's also why, when Harry felt Draco slip back into a deep sleep, he eased from the bed and padded out of the room and through the large apartment. Sure-footed in the dark, a result of a month's worth of similar pre-dawn trips through the house, he traversed the shadowy, furniture-packed living room with ease and entered the kitchen.

Hidden behind several seldom used bottles and vials in Draco's potions cabinet was Harry's stash of Dreamless Sleep and Pepper-up Potion. The Dreamless Sleep was for the evenings. Unfortunately, despite the fact that Harry had brewed it extra strong, it hadn't been lasting more than a couple of hours. The Pepper-up Potion was to get him through the day. As well as for now – to keep him awake the last few hours before dawn, when the fear of sleep outweighed his need for it.

After he had downed the Pepper-up and washed out the vial, he carefully replaced it in the back where he had amassed his own potions supplies. He quickly wove a spell over them, ensuring Draco would not take notice of Harry's sudden renewed interest in brewing – and these two potions in particular. Sighing, but fully awake, he turned from the large cabinet and ran right into Draco.

Draco looked deliciously sleep-tousled and if Harry thought he could avoid the impending confrontation, he would've dragged him back to bed immediately. But the look in Draco's eyes and his defensive stance, feet slightly apart and arms crossed over his chest, proved that was not an option.

Harry didn't speak, feeling exposed standing completely naked in the kitchen, and knowing that the next several minutes may bring things out into the open he had no desire to reveal. He glanced at Draco quickly and with a small quirk of his mouth, noticed Draco had not bothered with clothes either. Perhaps it was for the best, he thought, resigned. The situation did lend itself to honesty. If would be difficult to conceal and avoid the truth when standing naked in the kitchen with your equally naked lover. Who looked, Harry noticed with a cringe, decidedly livid.

Draco's voice, when he spoke though, was quiet and controlled. "Feeling better?' he asked neutrally.

"Yes…much…thank you," Harry replied.

"I'm glad. Are you ready to tell me what's really going on?"

An entire minute ticked by. "I'm not sure," Harry whispered.

Draco thrust his tongue to one side of his cheek and sighed. He dropped his eyes to the floor. When he looked up again, Harry felt his heart constrict at the pain reflected in them. "Do you love me, Harry?" he asked.

Harry's jaw dropped. "What kind of a question is that?" he asked, upset. "Of course!"

Draco didn't return Harry's indignant anger. His eyes remained sad. "But you won't trust me with this. This thing that's tearing you apart."

Harry leaned back against the counter, suddenly needing the support for his shaky legs. The thought of Draco doubting Harry's love for him quite literally stole his breath away. "It's _because_ I love you," he choked out, lack of sleep causing his roiling emotions to circle dangerously close to the surface.

Draco cocked his head. He still seemed totally unselfconscious of his nudity. "What do you mean?"

"I…" Harry felt the dam about to break, felt his fears coil in the base of his spine, stirring up his magic. The plates and cups began to rattle in their glass-front cupboards. Draco noticed, but didn't step closer to calm or comfort him. Harry could actually see the chasm between them growing and despair joined his fear.

"Draco. Please…."

Unable to resist the pull any longer, holding back this long had been painful enough, Draco stepped forward and Harry grabbed him, pressing close.

"It's not like before, is it?" Draco asked. "When you had the dreams a couple of years ago."

Harry shook his head. "No."

"Your scar is hurting you."

"Yes."

"And you weren't going to tell me."

The last statement held a trace of bitterness, and again Harry cursed himself for erecting this wall between them. He broke away from the embrace, and walked to the small window in the kitchen. It just so happened to be night outside. Actually, it had been dark for over a week. Something both Harry and Draco had been prepared for, after enjoying almost a week of non-stop summer sunshine. But the emptiness of London looked particularly sinister in the dark. It was an appropriate reflection of his mood.

Harry leaned against the frame and wrapped his arms around himself. A damp chill permeated the window, making the space around it colder than the rest of the kitchen. He was about to move away, ready to suggest they both dress before continuing their conversation, when Draco's arms snaked around him and Harry felt his lover's warm body press flush against the cold skin of his back. Immediately, the chill receded. Draco rested his chin on Harry's shoulder and he too stared out at the shadowed landscape of the city. After a while, he lowered his forehead to Harry's shoulder, smiling when Harry's arms tightened over his.

"Lets go back to bed where it's warmer and talk about this," he suggested. After a moment, Harry agreed.   
  


* * *

 

 

"It was a dream, Harry. Wherever they are, I'm sure Ron and Hermione are fine."

Harry scowled at Draco. He removed his hands from where they had been clasped in his lap and crossed them defiantly over his chest. He was leaning back against the footboard of the bed and Draco was sprawled sideways across it, propped on one elbow.

"That is a supremely idiotic thing to say, Dray. You have no idea if that's true."

Draco raised an eyebrow at Harry's snippy tone. "Just as you have no reason to believe what you saw in the dream is true."

"It was more than just a dream."

Draco groaned and rolled onto his back, covering his face with his arms, and Harry took a moment to admire the man he had become. Draco was still slender, but there was no disguising his muscular physique or the casual ease with which he moved. To Harry, Draco always seemed ready to pounce, like a hungry tiger. It was especially nice when Draco pounced on Harry. He couldn't help but smile at the thought.

"Stop thinking about sex."

Harry snorted. "I'm doing no such thing."

Draco peeked at him from beneath his arm. "Please, Harry. I can feel your eyes on me all the way over here."

Harry smirked. "Fine. And if I was?"

"No sex until we work this out."

Harry's mouth dropped open in shock and he sat straight up on the bed. "What?"

He saw Draco smile underneath the cover of his arms. "You heard me."

"You can't…hold me hostage like that!" Harry was outraged.

Draco stretched his arms above him, looking more like a tiger every second, before crossing them behind his head. "Try me."

Harry debated pushing the issue, in a very physical way, but the fact that Draco would sink to such a level indicated how truly upset he was by Harry's deception. He bit his bottom lip, unfolded his arms, and crawled across the blanket-strewn bed to where Draco was reclined. He leaned over him, bracing one hand on either side of his head. He smiled when he saw Draco brace for a fight.

Harry stared at Draco for many long seconds before leaning down and placing a chaste kiss against his lips. "All right," he conceded, laughing when Draco's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"What?" Harry said. "You thought I was coming over here to convince you otherwise?"

"Actually…yes. But I'm relieved you're willing to see it my way."

Harry collapsed next to Draco and now they were both sideways on the bed.

Harry closed his eyes, trying to decide how or where to start. "I've been having these dreams…horrible dreams. As bad as the ones I used to have…before." Draco didn't interrupt; instead he reached down to link their hands as Harry spoke. Both men kept their gaze on the ceiling. As he listened, Draco let his eyes follow the dancing shadows cast by the fire. When Harry seemed to have trouble continuing, Draco gave his hand a squeeze.

Harry took courage from the gesture, and continued in a broken voice. "I've taken to brewing extra strong doses of Dreamless Sleep, but it's less effective each night. I haven't slept more than two hours a night all week." He stopped at Draco's sharp intake of breath.

"I knew something was wrong. The amulet's been acting up," Draco said with a hint of anger.

Harry nodded. "I suspected as much. Even though you never said anything."

Draco rolled over to face Harry. Tenderly, he brushed his fingers over his cheek. "We'll figure it out, okay?"

Harry sighed and sat up. He stared into the fire for a long time. Draco watched him speculatively. "Maybe we shouldn't have come back to London," he said finally.

Draco had been thinking the same thing. But it had been years since they had run from anything, and he didn't plan to start now. He knew Harry felt similarly. "We'll work it out," he repeated.

And because he trusted Draco with his life, Harry decided to believe him.   
  


* * *

 

 

That morning, the light finally returned. Harry and Draco watched the sunrise from the balcony off their bedroom.

"Finally," Draco remarked. "That's the longest one in over a year."

Harry murmured his agreement as he sipped a strong cup of coffee. "I wonder what we're in for now," he said.

Draco just shrugged. "No use trying to guess. Let's take advantage of it though."

Harry smiled, but didn't look over. "What did you have in mind?"

Draco shrugged into a shirt and began buttoning it. He grinned when he saw Harry's attention finally shift from the sunrise. Harry watched appreciatively as Draco dressed with his usual lithe grace. When the performance was finished, and Draco had finished tying his shoes, Harry set his empty coffee cup aside. "That was inspiring. Now take it all off."

Draco tipped his head back and laughed. "Oh no, boy wonder. Not what I had in mind." He ducked back into the bedroom, appearing a moment later with an armful of clothing for Harry. He tossed the pile at him, relying on Harry's quick reflexes to save it from floating to the street below. "Come on. Get dressed. Time to try your new trick."   
  


* * *

 

 

Harry took a deep, cleansing breath. Centering himself, he closed his eyes. In his mind, he pictured the park as he would normally see it. When the picture was as vivid as he could make it, he began the incantation. Every so slowly, the picture in his mind changed. Tiny pinpoints of pulsing lights appeared in various areas, expanding as Harry urged the spell farther along. When he could see the park awash in the colors of its inherent magic, he began to pull it in.

The sensation was dizzying. Intoxicating. Harry felt his already considerable power increase exponentially as he drew on the earth's own primitive magic. As the spell reached its peak, Harry wavered at the top, awash in the rush of energy flowing through him. He felt euphoric, barely in control of himself, and afraid that he wouldn't be able to focus such a wellspring of power.

Then Draco was there. Guiding him and grounding him. Boosting his confidence and his resolve. Harry was barely aware of Draco's physical touch, but his mental presence was as bright as the sun. Taking another deep breath, he brought the spell to its completion, releasing a pulse of magic so powerful, the ground beneath his feet shook.

"Look, look," Draco urged him. Harry opened his eyes, already sagging as his energy levels dipped, but Draco caught him from behind and turned his attention to the sky.   
  


* * *

 

 

In the Paris Archive, Harry had found an obscure reference to a spell that could call on earth magic. Excited by its potential, he had pursued the source of the reference relentlessly, dragging Draco with him all over Europe. Eventually, they had discovered it in Romania. Once he had seen the spell in its entirety, however, Draco had vetoed it quite vehemently. It was extremely dangerous, and it clearly stated only a witch or wizard of great power could control the immense flow of raw magical energy the earth held. All who tried and failed would be destroyed.

Harry had laughed outright at that last bit, calling the author a melodramatic prat, but of course Draco had taken it seriously. So, it was only with his meticulous planning and testing that they had attempted the spell at all. Today's achievement brought closure to a plan they had been working on for nearly a year.

Harry had called the earth's magic to him and successfully controlled it. Further, he had been able to give it direction upon release, albeit with Draco's help, unleashing a spectacular light storm into the cloudless sky.

Now, they both stood in awe and watched the show. Colors filled the air, bursting when they met each other. Sparks of glittering gold and silver rained down around them. Harry started to laugh, giddy with his victory and Draco joined him. It was only when Harry saw movement out of the corner of his eye that he looked away from the brilliant spectacle

"Uh oh," he whispered.

Draco's head snapped around and he gasped when he saw what had caught Harry's attention.

The park was filled with people. They were also looking toward the sky, pointing and talking excitedly amongst themselves. Draco turned in a slow circle, unable to quell his nervousness. It was overwhelming to be in a crowd after so many years of solitude.

"They're not real," Harry said absently as he scanned the park. "You can see right through them."

Harry was correct. The people seemed perfectly normal, most were staring at the sky in shock, but their bodies appeared translucent and ghost-like. Draco was suddenly reminded of his encounter with Severus many years ago.

"No, I don't think so," he said. "This is what it was like when I saw Severus. Remember?"

Harry nodded, but he too was feeling the first stirrings of claustrophobia from the press of the crowd. "But these people don't see us," he muttered.

"Er…they're a bit distracted at the moment by your little display. No one's really looking at us."

Harry blinked and turned to face Draco. "Do you suppose it's the earth magic?"

Draco threw him an exasperated look. "Well, it's not the Aurora Borealis, mate."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Not that," he said, jabbing his finger at the sky. "That," he said, gesturing to the pale figures mulling around them. "Do you think it was the magic that…made them appear?"

Draco was about to respond when suddenly an elderly lady turned around and looked right at them. Her eyes grew wide as saucers, and she placed a hand over her mouth, pointing at Harry and Draco with the other. Even though they couldn't hear her, it was obvious she was screaming.

"Oh, shit," Draco said.

When several of the other people close by started pointing at them, gesturing wildly, Harry decided it was time to go. He stepped forward and pulled Draco close, apparating them away.   
  


* * *

 

 

When they appeared back at the flat, Draco collapsed into an overstuffed chair and threw an arm over his eyes. Harry stared down at him, a half-smile on his face. Draco looked exhausted and a bit shell-shocked. Harry knew he should be feeling the same. In fact, since it was he who executed the spell, he should have felt considerably worse than Draco.

But instead he felt buoyant and filled with what he could only call agitated excitement. Harry was no fool. Although these feelings had not been mentioned as possible side effects of channeling earth magic, they were incongruous enough with the crippling fatigue he should be experiencing, that he could acknowledge the earth magic as the most likely culprit. It was probably prudent to examine these feelings in more detail. Harry smiled slyly.

He watched as Draco summoned his journal from the bedroom. He hovered as Draco began scribbling furiously, ever faithful in his recording of their various experiments. He felt his smile grow as he watched Draco chew thoughtfully on the end of his quill. Finally, he couldn't take it any longer.

He plucked the notebook and quill from Draco's hands, ignoring his startled protests, tossed them on the table, and crawled into his lap. Draco's protests dried up as Harry rocked forward and rested their foreheads together.

"Harry?" Draco said cautiously.

"I'm feeling a little strange," Harry said as he dipped his head to nip at Draco's neck.

Draco's eyes fluttered closed as Harry's nips turned into wet kisses. "Ummm…not that I'm complaining, but…strange how, exactly."

"Spinning…restless…needy."

Draco made one last grab at rational thought before it skittered away under Harry's ministrations. "Oh," he said as Harry attacked his ear and began rocking his hips rhythmically. "I should probably record that," he gasped.

"Later."   
  


* * *

 

 

Bodies littered the field, most of them decked in Auror battle robes. Harry walked among the destruction, choking on the smoke and the stench. In the distance, he could hear the screams and cries of the survivors as they retreated, beaten back by the superior strength of their enemy.

His heart rate picked up, and gorge rose in the back of his throat as he turned in a slow circle, surveying the dead. When someone touched him on the shoulder, he nearly screamed. Spinning around, he had his wand pointed at his assailant's heart in less than a second. Luckily, his quick reflexes had him biting back the curse before it flew from his lips. Instead, he gaped for a moment before recovering enough to ask, "Professor?"

Albus Dumbledore regarded Harry sadly. If it were possible, he appeared even older than the last time Harry had seen him over five years ago, and never had he looked so weary or beaten.

"Hello, Harry," he said quietly.

"Hello, sir," Harry replied, still dumbstruck.

Dumbledore raised a shaky hand and placed it on Harry's shoulder. He looked Harry up and down, scrutinizing him, and when his eyes connected with Harry's once more, he was smiling.

"I approve, my boy," he said quietly.

Harry didn't try to hide his confusion. "What?"

Rather than answer, Dumbledore tightened his grip on Harry's shoulder and his smile disappeared. He leaned forward pinning Harry with his bright blue eyes. "It is time, Harry. You must return. We need you. The situation is dire, indeed."

Harry floundered, not wanting to believe that what he was hearing – what he was seeing – was real. "I…"

Dumbledore's voice turned harsh and his grip grew painfully tight. "We need you!"   
  


* * *

 

 

Harry woke shaking and sweating, a cry of denial on his lips. He sat up in bed, plastering a hand over his mouth when his loud, panicked gasps threatened to wake Draco.

He willed himself to calm, to shake the horror of the dream, but found he couldn't. Dumbledore's final words continued to echo through his mind, striking up a rhythm with his pounding head until finally, against his will, a strangled moan escaped him.

Instantly, Draco was sitting up beside him, pulling Harry into his arms and whispering soothing nonsense in his ear. Harry just shook his head and pulled away, stumbling out of the bed and across the room. He stood there, facing the wall for a long time. He knew Draco had followed him, could feel his presence behind him as surely as he knew what he had to do to stop the nightmares.

He reached back, and his hand was taken and immediately enfolded in Draco's warm grip. When he felt he could speak, he turned to face his lover. He could see Draco was worried, but Harry was surprised to see something else in his eyes as well. Resignation.

"I have to go back," Harry told him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight  
Blood Bond**

  
  
  


 

Draco sighed and turned away. He found to his consternation that he couldn't speak. Or rather, he couldn't express what he wanted to say. All he could do was shake his head – partly in denial, partly in disagreement. Those words, "I have to go back," were the ones he had been dreading for months. For years, actually.

He had never really believed they could keep things as they were forever. Not when they had left so much uncertainty behind them. But to return under these terms, with the promise of such dark happenings, terrified him. It stripped away whatever control he would have hoped to maintain. Draco loathed giving up control.

He tried one last time to discourage Harry, but quite frankly understood the futility of it before he had even opened his mouth. "You could be returning to your death," he said sullenly, still turned away.

"I know."

Draco shut his eyes. "How…what…" he sighed and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. "We have no idea what will happen. If this will even work." Suddenly, a horrifying thought occurred to him. He spun back to Harry. "What if we don't remember each other?"

Harry's eyes widened slightly, but he didn't speak. Draco saw then that Harry hadn't considered that possibility. He pushed ahead, a surge of hope causing the words to rush from his lips. "What if you return with nothing? Nothing. No knowledge or memory of what you've learned these past five years. If you step out of that light and you're seventeen again – what will you do?"

Harry bit his lip, but his gaze never wavered from Draco's. "Then I will have to be thankful for the time we were given," he replied quietly.

Draco lost his temper. "That's not enough!" he shouted. "It's not enough for me!" He stalked across the room, swiping his arm across a small table as he went, venting his frustration on the dishes and cups that had been stacked atop it. They went clattering to the floor, some shattering as they crashed into the nearby hearth. He stalked out onto the balcony, breathing in the crisp air, willing his anger away. Eventually, it dissipated. But the fear remained.

"Draco?" Harry had followed him out, but he didn't approach too closely. Instead, he stood in the doorway, and leaned heavily, in an uncharacteristic sign of weakness, against the frame. Draco glanced briefly over his shoulder, acknowledging his presence, but he didn't respond to the plea in Harry's voice.

"We take risks everyday we're here. There's no one to help us should serious trouble arise—"

"I'll take care of us!" Draco shot back angrily. "Haven't I always?" he said spinning around to face Harry.

Harry's eyes were sad. "Yes," he admitted. "But…I've been a coward long enough."

Draco caught his breath. He stormed up to Harry, grabbing him by the arms. "Is that was this has been? A convenient place to hide?"

Harry disentangled one of his arms and reached up to stroke Draco's face. His smile remained sad. "Not convenient. Just perfect. Knowing I'm safe. Knowing I have you."

Draco felt his life crumbling down around him. The quiet resignation in his lover's eyes, the steely tone in his voice – both spoke of his determination to go through with this mad plan. He let his anger re-ignite, swallowing the pain. Anger was safer. "Fine," he hissed. He stormed past Harry, through the room and out into the hall. He heard Harry calling him, but he didn't answer. He paused briefly to scoop up his discarded clothing from the floor beside the couch, where Harry had peeled it off of him last night. Shaking, he dressed as quickly as he could, desperate now to escape before the anger lost its battle with his grief. He jerked the t-shirt over his head as he stormed to the door.

"Draco." Harry was behind him, coming down the hall. Draco made a small sound in his throat, a cross between a groan and a sob and jerked the door open. Harry ran the last few steps and threw his weight against Draco, forcing the door shut and trapping him against the paneled wood. "Don't go, please," Harry whispered desperately in his ear. Draco clamped his eyes shut as his throat closed, and willed the tears back. With a growl, he threw himself back against Harry, who yielded without any additional prodding. Draco pulled the door open and fled.

Harry despaired for three days. The nightmares increased in intensity and frequency, but he stubbornly refused to leave. He could feel Draco close by, the warmth of the amulet proved he hadn't gone far, but he never saw him. Despite promising himself not to seek him out, Harry spent both the second and third days haunting the places he knew Draco favored, hoping for a glimpse of him. But apparently, Draco could sense Harry's proximity as well, for whenever the amulet began to heat up, indicating Harry was getting close, Draco would once more retreat, leaving Harry feeling cold and alone.

The third night, Harry awoke from the grip of the most horrible nightmare to date. Moaning, shaking, and covered in a sheen of sweat, he practically crawled across the floor to the bathroom, retching weakly. His body ached, as though it were fighting a high fever, the terror of the dream refusing to subside. Suddenly, a pair of mercifully cool, gentle hands lifted him from the floor and carried him back to the bed.

"Oh, gods, Draco," Harry whispered hoarsely. He burrowed into Draco's comforting embrace, not even realizing until that point how much he had missed him. It had been five years since he had gone longer than a few hours without Draco by his side. And nearly as long since he had laid alone in his bed, night after night, craving his touch.

"Shhhh. I'm sorry for leaving you," Draco whispered back as he pushed Harry's sweat-heavy hair from his brow. "Are you all right?" He pulled away just far enough to see the truth in Harry's eyes. "You don't have to answer," he said. "I can see how bad it is."

Draco reached over Harry to grab a glass of water from the bedside table. "Here," he said pushing it into Harry's hands. He watched as Harry drank greedily, before collapsing back next to Draco. He reached out and took large handfuls of Draco's sweater and pulled him close. "Fuck, Dray. I don't know how much longer I can do this."

"They're getting worse?"

Harry nodded. "And more frequent."

Draco nodded. He took a deep breath and tilted Harry's face to his. They needed to talk and Draco wanted to tell Harry what he had decided, but he needed this first. In case it was the last time.

He kissed Harry hard, releasing all his pent-up desire of the past three days, pouring his heart and soul into the contact. When he finally pulled back, Harry was smiling. "You're not leaving me," he said, feeling better than he had in days.

Draco arched an eyebrow before slithering down the bed and rolling on top of Harry. "You got that from one kiss?" Playfully, he nipped at Harry's chest, soothing the small bites with his tongue as he went.

Harry moaned softly, bringing his arms up around Draco, and stroking his back. The physical pleasure was incredible; and it soothed the nagging feelings of loneliness and rejection he had been nursing for the past three days. But it was nothing – nothing – compared to the hope and light that flooded his heart at having his lover back in his arms and in his life.

Harry had told himself repeatedly that Draco was just angry, upset, and scared. That he would come back. But as the hours had dragged into days, and Draco continued to avoid him, a black depression had begun to creep up on Harry, increasing its oppressive stranglehold on his mind and heart until his only escape from it had been the blessed oblivion of sleep. But, of course, that had quickly become worse than the long, lonely hours he spent awake and brooding. Potions or no potions, he couldn't close his eyes without the nightmares bursting through his mind like fireworks.

Having Draco back brought such relief, Harry knew he would have agreed to almost anything in order to keep the other man by his side.

Draco, Slytherin to the core, also knew this.

After a few minutes of kissing and caressing, Draco picked up the conversation once more. "I won't leave you, Harry. If you want to go back, then I will follow."

Harry took a deep, shaky breath and closed his eyes against the sudden sting of tears. He was so relieved by those words, he nearly missed what Draco said next.

"If…"

Harry's eyes snapped open and he stared at the ceiling while he processed that tiny, meaningful word; his cognitive state was not at its best when Draco's mouth was working steadily down his abdomen. He frowned when he remembered his lover knew exactly how that particular maneuver affected Harry's ability to think. Normally, Harry didn't mind Draco's manipulations, but the stakes were a bit too high for him to make a blanket promise with nothing more to go on than "if." He reached down to still Draco's progress.

"If…what?" he asked the ceiling.

Draco's sharp eyes took in his lover's sudden terse expression. Now or never, he thought.

"If you blood bond with me."

Harry blinked, but his eyes didn't leave the ceiling. "No," he said.

Draco's hands tightened on Harry's hips. His lips thinned, and his expression became as pinched as Harry's. He abandoned the portion of his plan dedicated to physical distraction and sat up, straddling Harry's thighs. From this position, it should have been impossible for Harry to avoid looking at him, but he managed quite nicely, Draco noted with a frustrated sigh. Harry's eyes bored right through him and into the ceiling.

"That's my condition," Draco said, all teasing leaving his voice. He watched as Harry's jaw tensed.

"I don't accept it."

Draco blew out a frustrated breath and relaxed his muscles, dropping his full weight onto Harry's lower body. Harry's eyes sparked, but he didn't protest. Draco settled comfortably onto his lover's legs, crossed his arms over his chest and waited. He knew this game well, and he never lost. As if cued, Harry finally focused his eyes on his lover and rebelliously jerked his hips, rocking Draco. "I said no," he ground out. "It's final. I won't put you at risk like that."

"The risk goes both ways, Harry."

Harry snorted humorlessly. "For normal people it does. Not for me. The chances of me outliving you are slim to none. I refuse to cause you an early death." By now, Harry's voice was loud and angry. And scared.

Draco never lost focus. Never lost sight of his goal – his prize.

"It's what I want," he said quietly. "I wouldn't want to go on living without you."

He saw Harry's eyes soften and his hands once again returned to Draco's body, stroking absentmindedly as he thought.

"I've been responsible for too many deaths already, Dray. I couldn't bear shouldering yours as well."

"You're a big boy now, Harry. You can handle it."

Harry gave him an incredulous look. "I think I have all the responsibility I can handle right now," he shot back.

"And I don't have enough!" Draco retorted. "Let me have this. The least I can do is boost your strength while you do…whatever it is you have to do."

"If I die, you will too."

"You're not telling me anything I don't already know."

Muffling a groan of exasperation, Harry rose up on his elbows. "Draco…please don't make me do this," he asked.

Draco wanted to melt at the desperation in Harry's voice. However, he was adamant about the bond. He has spent three days thinking about it. A relatively simple spell, its repercussions were still profound. It bound two souls together so inexorably that even death would not part them. The advantages, in Draco's opinion, vastly outweighed the drawbacks. In times of need, Harry would be able to draw on Draco's power, his life-force, to sustain him when his own strength flagged. Hypothetically, they could even pool their power, creating a synergistic effect – making them stronger together than alone.

Additionally, they would be able to communicate telepathically, a skill Draco had always secretly coveted. In his opinion, it was only one short step from the unspoken communication they shared now.

And quite frankly, Draco thought as he stared into Harry's pleading eyes, if he agreed to this mad plan, and they returned to find Voldemort still alive and slithering, this bond may be the only thing to save them.

"Please reconsider," Harry said.

"I will not," Draco replied, but all traces of haughtiness had vanished. He pleaded as Harry was pleading. "I can't control what's going to happen, Harry. But there are some things I can control, and this is one of them. We go back bonded, as close as two souls can come to being one, or we don't go at all."

"I would go," Harry said sullenly.

"But I would not."

Harry fell back onto the bed and threw his arms haphazardly over his face. "Can you get off of me now?" he asked. "I can't think while you're cutting off the circulation to my legs."

Draco smirked, already cheering inside. He knew he had won, now he just had to wait for Harry to admit it. Unfortunately, history had shown that could take some time. Not one to remain idle, Draco resumed his perusal of Harry's chest, smiling against his skin when an angry growl rumbled in his lover's throat. "Stop that! I can't think."

"You had better learn to handle diversion a bit better then," Draco countered. This was all love-play, of course. The truth was, Draco had never met anyone who could focus so singularly on one thing, and quite easily ignore the peripheral happenings around him as Harry could.

"What you're doing with your mouth is particularly distracting."

"And I haven't even really started yet. You could be in real trouble. What if Voldemort finds out?"

"What? That you're a sneaky, blackmailing bastard?"

"No. That you liked your nipples licked."

"You think he might try to lick me to death?"

"I can think of worse ways to go."

Harry made a face. "Ugh! Not me. Sounds worse than Avada Kedavra."

Draco laughed against Harry's skin, teasing goose bumps to the surface. "So?"

"So, what?

Draco sighed. "The bond?"

Harry's sigh echoed Draco's. "I don't like it. But…if it's what you want…then I agree."

Draco couldn't stop the thrill of victory from rushing through him. "You might find it enjoyable," he said, finally raising his head to meet Harry's piercing gaze.

Harry frowned, but his hands never ceased their light caresses of Draco's back. "It's not like trying a new food, Dray. We can't spit it out if we don't like it, you know."

"How undignified! Malfoy's don't spit, they swallow," Draco retorted, horrified at the thought. Harry grinned and thrust his hips gently against Draco's stomach.

"Yes, I'm well aware of that."

"There's no hope for you Harry. It's your destiny to remain a Philistine."

Harry sighed, all humor draining out of him. "Among other things."

Draco gave an answering sigh and rolled off of Harry, dragging him over until they were lying side by side, facing each other on the bed. Draco occupied himself by weaving his fingers through Harry's hair, and Harry took his time mapping Draco's face with his fingers. They enjoyed the mutual comfort derived from the simple touches until Draco spoke. "When should we do this?" he asked.

Harry didn't hesitate. "As soon as possible. Now."

Draco tried to act surprised, but didn't think he managed very well. "That bad, huh?"

"I can hardly sleep." Draco didn't miss the twinge of desperation in Harry's voice. He leaned forward and kissed him gently before sitting up and urging Harry to do the same.

"Then now it is."

The blood bond was ancient, dating back almost six hundred years. In the distant past, it had been used most often to secure alliances between the great houses. The younger members of said houses, often forced into marriage with individuals they found less than suitable, had an annoying tendency of running off when faced with the reality of such a union. The blood bond prevented this – bonded couples could not live without the other, and in fact, once the bond was initiated, most found they enjoyed the unique closeness and intimacy the bond provided.

It was only in later years that its use turned dark, bonding followers to one lord or another, allowing one person to have the power of many witches and wizards at his fingertips. Voldemort used a variant of it to mark his followers. Using the bond became prohibited for this reason, and as such the tradition of initiating a blood bond between betrothed couples was outlawed. To Draco's immense relief. The thought of being bound to Pansy was enough to make his stomach turn.

He had come across information on the practice and the spell to initiate the bond over two years ago in an ancient castle in Spain. While Harry had poked around the ruins looking for some silly clue that would lead him to the earth magic spell, Draco had found the book on blood rites. It was by far the most interesting find of the afternoon, and he had devoured the entire contents in two days, before shrinking the ancient tome and adding it to his extensive collection of texts.

Now, as Draco prepared Harry for the rite, his thoughts turned to three days ago, when Harry had performed the earth magic spell for the first time.

Harry?" he said as he meticulously washed his lover's hair.

"Mmmmm,"

"You remember three days ago, when you made the earth move?"

Harry's face split into a grin, but he didn't answer. Instead, his hands, which had been idle at his sides while he enjoyed Draco's attention, drifted to Draco's waist and lightly rubbed the skin there. "Yes…?" he said huskily.

Draco snorted and purposefully sent the stream of water from the showerhead into Harry's face. "Not then, you idiot. I meant the experiment in the park."

"Mmmm. Yes, I remember." Harry didn't seem inclined to discuss it though. As Draco rinsed the last of the soap from his hair, running his hands through the dark locks, Harry stepped forward into Draco's arms. His arousal slid against Draco's stomach, still slippery from the remnants of the shampoo.

Draco stepped back. "Stop that!" he scolded. "Is that all you think about?"

Harry chuckled silently, but he didn't answer. Nor, however, did he pursue Draco across the shower stall. "Am I clean enough?" he asked with a small smile.

Draco sighed. "You'll have to be. I don't know how much more I could actually do, although the rite does call for complete purity. We'll just have to hope it's enough."

When Harry stepped forward again, Draco slapped his wandering hands away. "Forget it, wonder boy. You're not wasting all my hard work. Besides, if I've read the spell correctly, we're going to be all over each other when this thing is over."

Harry's eyebrow's arched nearly into his hairline. "Even more so than usual?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Apparently."

"Oh." Harry dropped his hands. "Well, then. Let's get on with it."

Draco snorted and turned the taps until the water shut off. He stepped out of the shower, grabbed a towel and threw it in Harry's general direction. "You know, sometimes you act more like you're two, rather than twenty-two," he sniffed as he toweled himself off.

A pair of tan hands circled Draco from behind and pulled him against a still damp chest. "Sorry," Harry whispered, and Draco just barely restrained from rolling his eyes yet again. If Harry's tone was any indication, he was anything but sorry. "I shall strive not to touch you so much," Harry teased.

Draco shook his head and pulled away. Harry's attitude would have annoyed him had he not recognized it for what it was. Humor was Harry's defense mechanism, and he was still extremely ambivalent about this bonding, despite his having agreed to it. Draco vowed to prove to him it was the best decision.

"I'll be waiting," Draco said as he left the bathroom. Harry watched him go with anxious eyes. He stayed in place for another few moments, taking several deep, calming breaths, before following Draco into the bedroom.

Draco directed Harry to kneel across from him on the floor. Harry stepped forward, shivering a bit in the cool room. Draco noticed and beckoned him forward. "Come on, it's warmer here by the fire." Harry pushed aside the last of his reservations and joined Draco on the soft rug. As he did, the soft sizzle of magic tickled his skin. He looked questioningly at Draco. "Just a protective circle," Draco explained.

Harry nodded and joined his hands with Draco's, who began the incantations. Harry felt himself relaxing more and more as the spell wove around them. He responded when appropriate, mimicking the Latin phrases Draco was using. When Draco stopped speaking, Harry peaked one eye open. Draco was looking at him, a half-smile on his face.

"I don't feel any different," Harry said.

"We're not finished," Draco said with a small laugh. He reached down and retrieved a ceremonial dagger from beside him. He chuckled softly when he saw Harry frown. "I got it yesterday," Draco explained. "When I decided we were going to do this."

Harry frowned. "I had yet to agree to it yesterday," he said pointedly.

Draco just smiled and Harry sighed. "You know me too well."

Draco reached forward and clasped one of Harry's hands in his. "I'm about to know you a whole lot better," he said, humor giving way to seriousness. Taking the dagger, he held it to his chest, right above the heart. Holding Harry's gaze, he made a shallow, vertical cut in his skin, about two inches long. He handed the dagger to Harry, who did the same. As soon as his blood began to flow, Harry felt the magic surrounding them leap up, electrifying the air. His heart sped up, his breath coming in shallow pants. The surge of power was nothing, however, to the longing that engulfed him when he looked up into Draco's eyes. Harry found he couldn't look away. Draco too was breathing harshly and his eyes were dilated. He lifted a shaking hand and swiped at the blood dripping from the cut on his chest. Clumsily, he began to draw the bonding rune over Harry's heart, using his own blood to outline the ancient symbol.

It was not a complicated rune to draw, but with each slight movement of his finger, the urge to throw himself across the short distance and into Harry's arms grew until the compulsion was almost impossible to ignore. With a tiny moan, he completed the rune and sat back, his whole body trembling with repressed need. Swallowing against a dry throat, he urged Harry to complete the bond.

Harry was also struggling to remain focused. The touch of his lover's fingers on his exposed chest had fired nerve endings all over his body, until he was biting back his own moans. He understood and agreed with Draco' sense of urgency. He wanted nothing more than to grab Draco and crush him against his hot, fevered body. Instead, he reached up to the trickling cut on his own chest and ran a finger through the sticky blood.

As he reached out toward Draco and began tracing the magical symbol of the blood bond on his lover's chest, he could hear the other man urging him on under his breath. "Hurry, hurry. For Merlin's sake – Hurry!"

Harry tried, but his hand was shaking, so he forced himself to proceed at a careful pace, painstakingly tracing an identical mark on the skin over Draco's heart. As before, he felt the magic swelling around him, and the reason for the protective circle became clear. Draco had erected it to protect the rest of the room from the magical backlash Harry could feel building within him.

As his finger connected the last lines of the symbol, his vision narrowed to a tiny pinprick. A distant, bright light beckoned him forward. He was falling, but he felt no fear. Rather, he urged himself faster, trying to rush to the connection he could sense at the end of the dark tunnel. Then – he was there. He careened into the light and he could sense Draco's life force crashing over him like a tidal wave. Still, it wasn't enough. Harry struggled to get closer. He wanted to both crawl inside Draco and surround him at the same time. The light grew to a blinding brightness as they strained toward each other, before exploding into millions of tiny fragments of ecstasy, carrying Harry and Draco away.

When Harry came back to himself, he and Draco were wrapped around each other like climbing ivy – arms and legs entwined, touching wherever they could physically manage. Harry's heart pounded furiously in his chest, both from the aftermath of the bonding as well as from the hyperawareness of his lover ensconced within his heart and soul. His cheek was pressed tightly against Draco's, and he could hear the other man's trembling, gasping exhalations in his ear.

He groaned and tensed his muscles experimentally, grimacing when he felt them protest even the slightest movement. Between them, he could feel the cooling stickiness of their semen.

"Sweet Merlin," he croaked and finally Draco stirred. His muscles ached and he too moaned when he tried to move. Harry couldn't help but laugh when Draco noticed the mess between them and grimaced.

"How long have we been like this?" he asked, his voice just as raspy as Harry's.

"Don't know," Harry answered.

Draco tried to pull away, and immediately both gasped at the loss of the closeness. Swearing under his breath, Draco jumped back into Harry's arms. For some reason, Harry found their predicament extremely funny, and didn't attempt to hold back his amusement.

"What's so funny?"

Harry just laughed harder. "Brilliant plan, Draco. We're sure to be able to sneak up on Voldemort like this."

"Sod off, Potter."

The sound of Harry's laughter echoed through the flat.

Eventually, as the hours wore on, they were able to separate for longer and longer periods of time, until finally Harry felt his sense of self, his uniqueness, return. But when it did, it came with a new sense of fortitude and intimacy.

Draco had been right. Harry liked it.

In fact, he wondered how he had lived without it before. He was constantly aware of Draco, even when the other man was far away. He could sense his mood, determine his physical state, and even, if he wanted, delve into his mind. Both agreed, however, to only use that new skill in an emergency or when invited to do so by the other.

They could even communicate telepathically. Draco, of course, was thrilled and wanted to try it right away. Harry considered it more of a parlor trick, but patiently indulged him. When Draco had finally tired of his play – honestly, Harry thought, now who's being the two-year-old – Harry managed to lure him back to bed.

Having sex with the blood bond in place was a new experience. If told prior to the rite that he would feel even closer to Draco during their lovemaking than he had before, Harry would have scoffed. But this – this exquisite, passionate coupling – far surpassed the intensity of their past unions.

For the first time in weeks Harry slept without a nightmare, Draco making every effort to buffer his mind from any unpleasant thoughts and images. He woke rested and content, and couldn't help smiling when he felt Draco curled around him protectively.

But when he turned to wish his lover good morning, his sunny mood evaporated. What Harry had taken for a protective embrace, was actually a clinging one. With a gasp, Harry drew Draco into his arms and began rubbing his back. Draco's face was pinched and he was whimpering quietly.

"Draco, Draco. Wake up."

Draco's eyes snapped open and for several seconds his eyes remained unfocused and unseeing. Then as his expression cleared, he reached for Harry, grabbed him and pulled him close. Harry went willingly, still soothing Draco as best he could with gentle touches.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Draco whispered into Harry's neck. Finally, he pulled away and met Harry's concerned eyes with his stormy gray ones. "Something terrible's happened," he said. "We have to hurry."

Harry nodded grimly, not demanding an explanation. He didn't need one. He understood without asking that by using the bond to insulate Harry from the nightmares, Draco had opened himself up to them. And by all accounts, they were escalating.

He pulled Draco from the bed and pushed some clothes into his hands. "Get dressed. We'll pack and leave for Hogwarts right now."

Draco just nodded dumbly, but didn't move to comply. Harry frowned and sent an experimental spark of reassurance and love through the bond. Draco's eyes closed briefly, before opening again and meeting Harry's. "Thank you," he said hoarsely.

"Better now?"

Draco nodded. "Yes."

Harry handed Draco a shirt. "Then let's go."

Two figures stood on the rise, looking down the road to where it dipped before rising again on its approach to the castle. It looked the same, Harry thought. Peaceful and sleeping. Not forbidding at all. Yet.

He gave a deep sigh and turned to look at Draco. His lover stood next to him, regarding the castle thoughtfully. To one who didn't know him well, Draco may have seemed relaxed. His posture certainly indicated that, but Harry knew better. He could see the worry lines around Draco's mouth and eyes, and could sense his apprehension through the bond.

'Ready?' he whispered into Draco's mind. Draco hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

They began the long walk to Hogwarts.


	9. Chapter 9

>   
> **A/N:** // indicates thoughts between Harry and Draco //
> 
>  

**Chapter Nine  
Return**

  
  
  


 

The door to the abandoned storage room flew open with a crash, scattering small pieces of debris and raising an impressive cloud of dust. As the dust settled two figures stepped through from the chill dungeon hall into the even chillier, damp room. Both Draco and Harry lowered their wands, which they had used to breakthrough the impressive defensive wards on the door.

Draco smirked as Harry replaced his wand in his cloak pocket. "This brings back memories," he drawled. Harry snorted, but before he could answer, he was overcome by a powerful sneeze.

Draco wrinkled his nose and watched Harry search in vain for a tissue or handkerchief before reaching into his own pocket and offering his. "Although I didn't think we locked it behind us when we left the last time, did we?" he continued.

Harry shook his head and handed the used hankie back to Draco, who accepted it with a look of disgust. He promptly scourgified it and followed Harry deeper into the room.

"No, I don't think so," Harry said. "But I don't remember much except wanting to get away from you."

"You were so misguided back then."

Harry didn't answer verbally, although he did offer a tendril of amusement through their bond. He continued through the room, meandering in between the scattered furniture and other forgotten objects. He found himself unnerved by the yards of dust-ridden white sheets that covered the items in the room, turning them into misshapen ghouls.

When he turned a particularly sharp and narrow corner and stopped dead in his tracks, Draco nearly plowed him over. "For Merlin's sake, Harry, what the…." Draco's voice died off as he looked up and saw what had caught his lover's attention.

The Light of Losirin poured down from the high ceiling in all it's glory, dust particles catching the light here and there as they swirled through the air. Draco sighed softly in defeat. This was it then, he thought. He had harbored a hope, a small, desperate hope, that they would nothing in the old, abandoned room. He straightened his shoulders, which had slumped when he had seen the Light and slipped a hand around Harry's waist. Harry was absolutely still. He stared at the Light with fathomless eyes, not even acknowledging Draco's gentle touch.

//I had almost hoped…// Harry's unspoken words drifted into Draco's mind. He closed his eyes briefly and opened his mind to Harry only to find him conflicted, torn and grieving.

//I know.// Draco answered back, letting his own disappointment accompany the thought. Neither one of them truly wanted this. Sudden anger raced through him, and unconsciously his hand tightened painfully on Harry's waist.

Sending reassurance through the bond, Harry turned to Draco and placed a hand to his cheek. They hadn't spoken to each other during this exchange, but so many emotions, longings, and fears had passed between the two that Draco felt his control slipping. He could tell Harry was trying to assuage his sudden rage, but he refused to be placated. //Who's doing this to us?// he asked, his mental voice taking on a dangerous edge.

"Shhhh," Harry said. //Don't you trust me?// he whispered into Draco's mind.

//About as far as I could throw you.// Draco answered. //You'll get yourself killed at the first opportunity, I know it.//

Harry smiled, deliberately ignoring the statement. He leaned closer and captured Draco's mouth with his, running his tongue teasingly over his lips until Draco sighed and let him in. Harry held nothing back; he dominated the kiss, stealing into Draco's mouth again and again, tasting him everywhere, memorizing him. With his mind, he bombarded the bond with his love and commitment until the dual assault had Draco moaning rapturously and sliding to the cold, stone floor. Harry followed him down, never letting up until he had Draco cradled in his arms between his knees.

He slid both of his hands into Draco's hair, enjoying it's smooth slide against his fingers, before tipping Draco's head back and pinning his lover's storm-gray eyes with his emerald greens ones.

"Fear is what kills. Love lives forever," he said in a choked voice.

Strangely, Draco felt the tears that had been threatening recede. Yes, he thought to himself. For them, love would live forever. In life or in death. By focusing on that thought, Draco was able to regain control of his roiling emotions. He sent back a warm wave of affection, showing he understood, and allowed Harry to assist him back to his feet.

Harry turned away slightly and let Draco compose himself, which, he thought proudly, he accomplished in just a few seconds. Together, they stepped up to the edge of the light that decorated the floor in a tight circle.

Harry glanced at Draco from the corner of his eye. "Er…from the count of three?"

Draco just rolled his eyes, grabbed Harry's arm and stepped forward, dragging Harry with him.

It was just as beautiful as he remembered it, Harry thought. Smiling despite himself, he turned to Draco. "If I remember correctly, we did this a little differently the last time," he said.

He saw Draco smirk, but he didn't look over.

Harry slid his fingers into Draco's, marveling at how the light seemed to surround their joined hands and shoot from their fingertips. "Do you think…"

"No, I don't. That really is all you think about isn't it?" When Harry's smile turned into a petulant pout, Draco tightened his grip and stepped back out of the circle, once more pulling Harry with him.

They stood for several moments, taking stock of themselves and each other through their bond, before Harry finally shrugged and said, "I feel fine. I remember everything."

"Me too," Draco said, even though it wasn't necessary to verbalize it – Harry would have already known. He pulled on the bond, testing it, and Harry squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"Still there," he said but Draco frowned.

"Let's be sure. What am I thinking right now?"

Harry laughed and tugged his hand away to straighten his cloak. "You look fine, don't worry," he said between chuckles.

"What? Worrying about my appearance is not in the forefront of my mind right now, Potter."

"No," Harry agreed. "But it's _always_ in the back of your mind," he replied, laughing again.

Draco sniffed indignantly, and straightened his own cloak, making sure his wand was close at hand. "I resent that."

Together they made their way back to the door. Harry frowned at it. "This time, let's lock it behind us. I wouldn't want anyone else stumbling upon that."

Draco shrugged and as they stepped out into the corridor, he spelled the door shut and locked it behind them. Harry added his most powerful locking spell for good measure, and Draco threw him a sidelong glance. "Was that necessary? I doubt even Dumbledore could get in there now."

"That's the point."

Draco raised an eyebrow and was about to question this when a series of shouts were carried to them from down the corridor. They both immediately tensed, regardless of the fact that they had been half-expecting the sound since they had emerged from the Light of Lorsirin.

Draco found himself reaching for his wand, the move unconscious, even after all this time, but Harry stayed his hand, giving it a soft squeeze when Draco glanced sharply at him.

"It's just the students," Harry said.

Draco frowned, clearly disbelieving. "All the way down here in the dungeons? Only Potions is held this deeply in the castle and that's clear over in the east wing."

Harry gave a small smile, but Draco could see the sadness in his eyes as easily as he could sense it through the bond. Sadness and worry.

"In my nightmares," he said as they began walking again, "classes were being held in the lower levels of the castle. For safety's sake."

Draco swallowed heavily. "That doesn't bode well. Perhaps it's just Filch torturing a couple of the First Years."

Harry just shrugged, but his heart was racing at the implications. If one nightmare proved true, would the rest as well? He pushed down the grief that threatened to surface when he thought about Ron and Hermione. As they made their way through the dark corridor, and gradually approached the main area of the castle, Draco slipped his hand into Harry's, rubbing his thumb firmly over the cold knuckles. //Don't assume the worst.// he sent through the bond.

Harry didn't speak, but did take comfort from Draco's touch. He shivered, even though the chill and damp were receding rapidly as they approached the main junction of corridors for the Hogwarts dungeons. They reached the intersection of the six halls, stood in the center and glanced cautiously around. They hadn't heard any voices in several minutes, and Harry was beginning to wonder if they had been correct in thinking the noise had been shouting students.

Then, somewhere not too far down the corridor, a clock chimed the hour. Both Draco and Harry silently counted the chimes until they stopped at ten. So great was the understanding and unspoken communication between them that neither bothered to voice the unspoken question: did the chimes indicate ten o'clock in the morning or in the evening?

In the very next second, their question was answered.

From all sides, doors flew open and students streamed out into the hall, chattering quietly. Even in the midst of the chaos and confusion, as well as his knee-jerk reaction to seeing other living souls again after so long, Harry remarked wordlessly to Draco on the students' somberness. None laughed outright, although a few were smiling or chuckling as they huddled together with their friends. And the sheer number of suspicious looks they were receiving was unnerving.

During his own years at Hogwarts, despite his little problem of being a moving target to the Dark Lord and his dozens of minions, Harry had never looked twice at a stranger in the halls. He has always assumed the powerful protective wards surrounding the castle and grounds would prevent a stranger with nefarious intentions from entering the school. In fact, preventing such a thing was one of the main purposes and functions of the wards. Why then, were he and Draco being stared at with everything from suspicion to fear to downright hostility?

Harry turned to Draco and smiled wryly. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied a few older students approaching them cautiously, hands stuffed into their pockets where they no doubt kept their wands. "I don't think they're happy to see us love," he joked softly.

"Well then let's leave," Draco said back through clenched teeth. "I wasn't really enjoying myself anyway."

Harry silently agreed this was the best course of action and as non-threatingly as possible, they began to back away from the crowd of milling students. //Do you recognize any of them?// Harry asked mentally. He didn't want to give the impression to any of the obviously protective older students that he and Draco were looking for someone in particular. He didn't question his instinct on this, he simply obeyed it.

//Not a one.// Draco admitted.

Harry and Draco backed up. The circle of older students advanced. Just as it looked as though the potentially explosive confrontation wasn't going to be avoided, a very familiar voice spoke from behind them. "That will do, all of you. I will take it from here."

Beside him, Harry heard Draco's sharp, indrawn breath and felt a wave of emotion come crashing over the bond. It was a tangled mess of many things: relief, excitement, joy, apprehension and also, great affection.

Harry, too, couldn't stop the overwhelming feeling of relief at hearing Severus's voice after so long. His nightmares of the past weeks had been so horrible, and full of so much death, that hearing the voice of a friend was welcome.

As one, he and Draco turned until they were facing Severus, the man who had been a friend and mentor to them both, although Harry had enjoyed the man's positive attentions only recently compared to Draco lifelong relationship with the man.

Draco couldn't help but smile when he saw Severus's eyes turn from suspicious to disbelieving, and then, finally to joyful.

"By the gods," Severus whispered in a throaty voice. He stretched his hand out toward them, and immediately Draco knew what he was doing. "I'm really here, Severus," he said softly so as not to frighten the other man. "We're back," he added, trying and succeeding remarkably well he thought, to keep his lack of happiness at the idea to a minimum.

When he heard Harry sigh beside him, however, he figured he hadn't been that successful. Slowly, he stepped toward Severus, tentatively reaching his own hand out to clasp the Potions Master's. For a quick moment, he was jolted by the unfamiliar feel of the skin, the shape of the palm, and reflected on just how long it had been since he had touched anyone besides Harry.

Then Severus was murmuring a husky, "Draco," and was pulling him into a tight embrace. Draco instinctively balked at the touch, squelching an irrational urge to bolt into Harry's arms. Instead, he beat down his fears and clasped Severus to him, matching the intensity of the embrace. With a small sigh, Severus pulled back just enough to take Draco's face in his palms. He let his eyes roam ceaselessly over Draco's face, who allowed the scrutiny without complaint. Finally, a small smile crossed his features. "Draco," he said again softly. "You have changed."

"Yes," Draco replied, but didn't offer anything further. He saw Severus's eyes dart past him and widen again.

"Harry?" Severus all but croaked.

Harry smiled. "Yes, Severus. It's been a lon…oomph!" His greeting was cut off when the Potions Master untangled himself from Draco and grabbed Harry roughly, pulling him against his chest. When a spark of surprise and jealousy flashed in his mind, Harry responded by flooding his thoughts with love for his bonded. He felt Draco's tension ease, but both his body language and his expression reflected his discomfort with having Severus touch Harry so intimately.

Severus noticed nothing of the silent drama unfolding around him.

"Harry, we didn't think you'd come back." He also failed to notice how Harry's eyes narrowed at the comment or how he suddenly stiffened in Severus's arms. Draco stepped forward, ready to demand an explanation, since Severus obviously knew something of their mysterious disappearance, but was once more swept up into a one-armed hug. He met Harry's eyes over Severus's shoulder and they silently agreed to let the issue go for now.

As it was, neither Harry nor Draco were unaffected by the reunion. Neither wanted a potentially explosive confrontation so soon after getting their friend and mentor back. "How have you been?" Draco asked quietly. Severus didn't answer right away, instead prodding the two away from the cross-corridor and toward the steps to the Main Hall.

"Things are dire, Draco. But they have been for some time. As you can see, all classes are now held here in the dungeons – for the student's safety."

Harry shook his head. Draco could sense his confusion. The entire situation was decidedly unnerving. "I don't understand. What about the wards?" Harry asked.

Severus sighed and for the first time, Harry took a good look at his former professor. By wizarding standards, he was still young, but in the five years since Harry had seen him, he looked to have aged fifteen or twenty.

"Severus?" Draco asked. "What's happening? I can tell that you know where we've been. You know or you would have asked." Draco's voice was calm, five years had taught him better control of his temper, but Harry could feel the seething anger pulsing through the bond; as well as a fair share of hurt.

Harry understood. He was also feeling betrayed. If it were true, that Severus had been a part of this…mad plan, then very nearly the last person in the world he trusted, save Draco and perhaps Remus, had manipulated him, put him in danger and lied to him. It was a sobering, hurtful realization.

"I know very little," Severus replied. "I was only told that you would be safe. I had to trust that. Trust that your cunning, " he looked pointedly at Draco, "and your training," he glanced back at Harry, "would keep you safe."

"An asinine thing to do," Harry mumbled as they approached the wide, stone staircase. Severus's head swung sharply around, but there was little censure in his eyes.

"Yes," was all he said.

Draco was surveying his surroundings as they ascended to the main floor of the castle. "What year is it, Severus?" he asked nonchalantly. Severus stopped mid-step, leaving both Harry and Draco two full strides ahead of him before they too stopped and turned.

Severus opened his mouth as if to answer, but snapped it shut again as he took in the two figures before him. These were not the boys he knew five years ago. With their impressive physical attributes not to mention the power that practically oozed from their pores, they were both dramatically breathtaking. Harry had lost that permanent slouch he had adopted to make himself less conspicuous, and his eyes burned with fierce intelligence. He stood, half turned, one foot on the step above, his pose one of casual confidence. This was not the inexperienced, impulsive boy who had very nearly got himself killed a dozen times, mostly due to his own idiocy. This was a man. A very powerful, intimidating one. For the first time, Severus wondered if Albus's plan had some merit after all.

Draco, too, had grown and matured. Pinned by his intense gaze, Severus felt like a bug under a microscope, an uncomfortable feeling for one such as himself. Nearly as much power radiated from him as from Harry, but with a subtle difference, one he couldn't put his finger on. As he watched closely, Draco darted a questioning glance at Harry, and to Severus's bafflement, Harry nodded without even turning to look at Draco. Fascinated, he watched as the corner of Draco's mouth twitched, and then in an instant, all was normal again. The two men in front of him no longer appeared hyper-aware of each other or of him. Harry arched an eyebrow questioningly at Severus – a trademark Draco expression. And one he had taught the boy himself.

Interesting.

Rather than answer Draco's question, Severus once again began a brisk march up the stairs, a bit miffed when he noticed neither of his companions had to hurry to match his long strides. They had indeed left boyhood far behind them.

"The Headmaster will answer all of your questions, I assure you," he said as he led them through the castle to toward Dumbledore's office. He puzzled a bit that neither protested his lack of communication. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that his cruel demeanor no longer intimidated either one of them. If they had in fact desired to speak, they would have.

Draco walked beside Severus quietly, but he was far from silent. He and Harry had maintained a mental dialog since the incident on the stairs several minutes ago. When Severus had paused on the stairs, clearly thrown by Draco's question, Harry had made a suggestion to his lover.

//Perhaps we should keep this bond to ourselves for the time being.// Harry had sent as Severus stared at them. Draco had glanced quickly at Harry, before answering.

//Not a bad idea, it doesn't hurt to be holding some of the cards.// he agreed.

Harry had nodded. //For once.// he sent back and Draco had to fight a smile.

Now, as they stood in front of the gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster's office, waiting for Severus to give the password, Harry reached for Draco through the bond. Draco immediately reached back, meeting him halfway. Harry felt his strength and self-confidence return as he let Draco's love wash over him, and knew Draco was enjoying the same boost in energy from Harry's returned love.

As Severus struggled through various names of sugary sweets, becoming increasingly more frustrated by the moment, Draco crept into Harry's mind and teased his pleasure center. At Harry's sharp gasp, Severus darted a glance over his shoulder. Harry smiled blandly, which had the Potions Master grumbling again before turning back to the warded entrance.

//Don't do that!// Harry scolded as he tried to surreptitiously adjust his sudden erection.

//I thought you needed something to take you mind off the upcoming festivities.// Draco replied with an innocent air. //Why do I get the feeling that when we do get up there, the bullshit's going to be six feet deep. The old man won't share anything of consequence with us. Especially if it has to do with our own lives.//

//I'll demand some straight answers.// Harry assured him and Draco gave the mental equivalent to a snort.

//I don't think he'll be impressed.//

Harry chewed his lip as he thought that over. In all likelihood, Draco was right. Dumbledore probably wouldn't be upfront with him about things. He never had been before. Why would he start now?

//Unless// Harry pondered.

//You give him something to think about.// Draco finished for him.

//Yes.// Harry agreed with a grin. He stepped forward and gently elbowed Severus to the side.

"Allow me, Professor."

"Don't bother, Potter," Severus shot back. "This past year the Headmaster has changed his passwords to those disgustingly rich Swiss confections he favors. I don't believe you would be familiar with any of them."

"You might be surprised," Draco said with a smile. "Harry took a liking to them as well just a couple of years ago."

As Severus digested this piece of information, Harry stepped forward and with a small flick of his wrist and a muttered incantation, dismantled the protective wards. The wandless spell had been a bit taxing, but the look on Severus's face was worth its weight in gold.

Draco rolled his eyes. //Show-off.//

Harry allowed himself a small self-satisfied smile before turning to Severus and gesturing for him to precede them up the stairs. Severus blinked once, still processing how Harry could have broken through one of the most strongly warded doors in the entire wizarding world with nothing but a casual hand gesture. Finally gathering himself, he turned and stepped onto the moving stairs, although his gait was a bit shaky.

Harry smirked at his lover as Draco brushed past him, asking //Was that sufficient?//

Draco snorted, earning another strange glance from Severus, and answered //I believe it will do.//

Harry joined the other two on the stairs and they began to move upward.

For all the upheaval in the rest of the world, Dumbledore's office was exactly the same as it always was. As the three stepped off the stairs into the office proper, Fawkes warbled a greeting.

This time, Harry's grin was genuine. "Hello, Fawkes," he crooned as he approached the Phoenix's perch. "Did you miss me?"

"Indeed, he did, Harry. As did we all."

Albus Dumbledore stepped into the room, gliding with his usual quiet grace to where the other three men were standing. Harry felt his lover tense slightly as the old wizard approached, and he stepped in front of Draco, instinctively protecting him. Dumbledore noticed the gesture and paused, and Harry tried to diffuse the situation by holding his hand out to the Headmaster.

"It's good to see you again, sir," Harry said respectfully, although trepidation and resentment rang through in equal measure as well.

"I am sorry to have disturbed you, Harry," Dumbledore said.

//I just bet.// Draco snarled in Harry's head, and even Harry didn't respond to what he believed to be a bald faced lie. Dumbledore waited a moment, but when it was clear neither Harry nor Draco were going to reply, he waved them into the empty seats in front of his desk. They took them warily.

Severus remained standing off to the side, and Dumbledore shot him a sidelong glance. "What's troubling you, my boy?" he asked kindly.

For a moment, Harry wondered if Severus would reply, but when onyx black eyes met green across the room, understanding passed between them.

"I am fine, Albus," Severus drawled. "I am still recovering from Mr. Potter's little display downstairs."

As Albus cocked his head questioningly, Harry thanked the gods for putting Severus on his side of this war.

"What do you mean, my boy?" Albus shifted in his seat, the only sign of his curiosity.

"Oh, nothing, Albus," Severus said as he rolled his eyes. "Simply how your Golden Boy dismantled your wards with a simple wave of his hand."

Albus recovered quickly, although Harry could see that little tidbit had thrown him for a loop. "I'm not surprised, Severus," he said and Harry tried desperately not to react to Draco's //Oh, please!// ringing through his head. "Harry's connection with his wand has always been powe-"

"With his hand, Albus. Not his wand."

"Ah…." Dumbledore said. Then he called for tea. It took every iota of Harry's self control to keep his facial expression impassive, especially with Draco cackling in glee in his head and Severus giving him a knowing smirk from across the room.

//I knew we could count on Severus.// Draco said. //He caught on right away.//

Harry smiled when tea was offered, but politely declined. When Dumbledore offered a cup to Draco, he too smiled, but he asked, "That depends. What did you lace it with?"

"Draco," Harry admonished quietly.

"That's quite all right, Harry. I understand Mr. Malfoy's concerns. A simple calming draught, my boy. I have no doubt it's been a taxing day for you."

"I appreciate your concern," Draco said neutrally. "But I will decline nonetheless."

Albus tipped his head in acknowledgment and poured a cup for himself. He made quite a show of adding just the right amount of milk and sugar, stirring lazily, blowing across the top of the steaming liquid, and then sipping it slowly, all the while doing nothing to further the conversation along.

Harry and Draco remained perfectly still the entire time. Neither demanded an immediate explanation, appeared restless or impatient, or fidgeted in the slightest. Severus felt a glow of pride while he watched; his boys had become men, and exceptional ones at that.

He, however, had no such illusions to maintain. "Oh, get on with it, Albus!"

Dumbledore set his teacup down, and Harry heard how it rattled lightly on the saucer as he did so. Resolutely, he pushed his concern for the old wizard's sensibilities aside. "Yes," he said. "It's time for you to tell us what you've done. And I request, politely, that you do so honestly."

Draco remained silent, but added his piercing gaze to Harry's quiet threat. Dumbledore was able to mask his surprise well, but there was no mistaking the power crackling around the two young wizards sitting in front of him. One did not have to be one hundred and fifty years old to recognize their barely restrained anger.

"Very well, boys." Both Harry and Draco let the subtle insult go. If Dumbledore had been hoping to put them in their place, he had failed miserably.

"Where would you like me to start?"

"At the beginning," Draco snapped. "Did you send us into that room together, knowing what we would find?"

"I did," Albus answered without hesitation.

"Why?" Harry asked.

"That question is a bit more involved," Albus said. He leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers across his chest. "For many years, Harry, beginning immediately after the events of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, we searched for a place to keep you safe from Voldemort. Until that place was found, everyone agreed you would be safest here, at Hogwarts, shielded by the wards around the castle as well as by the blood protection afforded to you by your relatives during the summer months.

"But, when another solution was found, we all mutually agreed that removing you completely from this world was the only sure way to ensure your continued survival."

"Wait. Stop," Harry interrupted. "Who's 'we'?"

"Myself and your guardians. As well as several senior members of the Order." Dumbledore turned his attention to Draco. "Draco, the Order is…"

"I know what the Order of the Phoenix is…sir," Draco said. "Do not trouble yourself to explain."

Dumbledore, the master of swift recovery, simply nodded and turned back to Harry. "As I was saying, Harry, it was mutually agreed to send you through the Light, hoping that you would continue to grow and mature in a safe environment."

Draco's anger reached a peak. "What kind of idiotic, crazy, hair-brained scheme was that? Are you serious? Did you have a team of monkeys working on this?" Seething, Draco stood and towered over the Headmaster's desk. Harry reached for him, but Draco shook him off angrily. "Harry almost died! Are you listening to me? He almost DIED! Because we were alone with no idea of what had happened to us. You manipulating bastard! You got lucky. That's all. We could just as easily have been killed there as here." Draco was breathing heavily, rage rolling off of him in visible magical waves.

Harry jumped to his feet and stepped in front of his lover, obscuring Draco's view of Dumbledore. "Easy, Dray," he crooned softly and added in his head, //This accomplishes nothing.//

//It sure as hell does!// Draco yelled back. //It makes me feel better.//

//Let's hear him out.// Harry insisted, softly stroking Draco's arms with his fingertips. Draco let his eyes close as Harry soothed him. "Fine," he said softly and Harry nodded. Darting a glance at Dumbledore and Snape, both of whom were watching with interest, he guided Draco back to his chair and they both sat back down.

"I apologize, sir," Draco said respectfully, and although not even Snape could fault the tone or sincerity of the quiet statement, Harry knew it was a lie. Draco wasn't sorry at all, and frankly, neither was Harry.

"I think you had better finish your story, sir," Harry said and Dumbledore nodded, his gaze still speculative as it darted back and forth between the two.

//He suspects something.// Harry said idly and smiled encouragingly at the Headmaster to continue.

//Who gives a fuck!// Draco answered bitterly. He kept his eyes averted from Dumbledore deliberately, not wanting to lose his temper again. His resolve was severely tested, however, when the Headmaster continued.

"We were well aware of the risks, Harry. We decided to trust in your training and resourcefulness to see you through. It was our hope to give you the time to develop your powers free from any threat or pressure. We all felt your magic would blossom under such circumstances. Where here, you were constantly being forced off track, alone it was hoped you could concentrate on finding and developing your strengths."

Harry remained mute, lips pressed tightly together. Damn the man for being right. Again. He struggled to reign in his resentment. "And Draco?" he asked softly, his tone dangerous.

"Ah yes," Dumbledore said, shifting his attention to the Slytherin. He paused meaningfully and glanced over to Severus. Draco followed the silent exchange. Shocked to the core, he too turned to look at Severus.

"Did you have something to do with this Severus?" he asked.

"Draco, I…"

"DID YOU?" Draco yelled.

Harry saw Severus pull himself up, bristling at Draco's outrage. "I did. And it was for your own protection."

Draco cocked his head. "How do you figure that?"

Severus allowed some of his own anger through. "Was it not your intention to deny your father and refuse the Mark?" he spat.

Draco sat back, surprised. "It was," he admitted. "How did you know that?"

Severus snarled angrily and stalked toward Draco, robes flapping. "He told me," Severus replied ominously. With a frustrated huff, he pivoted and stomped over to the large beveled window. When he next spoke, his voice had a haunted quality to it, and he didn't turn, choosing instead to remain facing away.

"He knew, Draco. He was planning a spectacular display for your death at Voldemort's hand. Had you not followed Potter into the Light, you would have lived exactly twenty more days."

Harry felt panic seize him at that thought, even if the untimely demise they were discussing was part of a foiled plan five years in the past. He reached blindly for his lover, needing the contact and felt his hand grasped and held tightly.

//It's in the past, love.// Draco chastised him mentally. Yes, exactly, Harry thought to himself. Focus on the present.

"So you arranged for Draco to be with me," Harry clarified. Severus turned from the window and nodded. "A risky venture don't you think? We hated each other."

"Not anymore, apparently," Severus replied looking meaningfully to their joined hands.

"Perhaps not," Harry admitted. "But you still took a great risk – placing two sworn enemies in such a situation."

Severus shrugged and turned back to his examination of the stained glass.

For several moments, no one spoke. Dumbledore busied himself by preparing another cup of tea. Draco and Harry remained quiet as well, even though so many questions had so far gone unanswered. Strangely enough, Dumbledore seemed to know where their thoughts lay, for he set his cup down gently and addressed the young men over steepled fingers.

"There is an Order meeting tonight, coincidentally. Convenient that I won't have to call a special gathering just to address your return," the Headmaster said with a smile. A snort of amusement drifted over from the window where Severus was standing. But Harry was not amused.

"I will not wait for tonight for certain things, professor. Such as, how much time has passed here? Where is Remus? My nightmares, were they real? About…about…how are…where are Ron and Hermione?" Harry stumbled through the last question as his emotions finally got the better of him. Draco's hand tightened and he sent a surge of love down the bond, comforting Harry as best he could.

"You will see Remus tonight, Harry. Many of the dreams I sent you were real events," Harry held his breath, "but not all," Dumbledore continued. "Ron and Hermione will be at the meeting tonight as well."

Draco abandoned his plan to comfort Harry as his rage boiled over once again. "You evil bastard!" he hissed as he stood and leaned over the desk. "Do you have any idea what that dream did to him?" Dumbledore's eyes turned steely blue and he too rose from his chair, matching Draco inch for inch, before leaning over the desk to look the younger wizard in the eye. From his seat, Harry could see Severus tense and prepare to intervene.

"I do, indeed, Mr. Malfoy. And for that, I will have to beg Harry's forgiveness. But I needed him back, and, let's be honest with each other, shall we? It worked."

Harry gasped and catapulted himself from his chair, hoping to reach Draco in time. At the same moment, Severus rushed forward, but both were too slow to stop Draco's magic, held too long in check, before it exploded outward and enveloped them all.


	10. Chapter 10

  
  


**Chapter Ten  
What's In A Name?**

  
  
  


 

Harry leapt across the desk, simultaneously throwing a shield up in front of the Headmaster and pulling at the bond with all his strength, hoping to draw some of Draco's angry magic away from its intended target. The release of his lover's temper, visible in the air as an undulating wave, bounced off of Harry's shield just as it snapped into place. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Severus reach Dumbledore and catch the sagging Headmaster, gently lowering him to his chair. In the split second in which everything had happened, Harry gave silent thanks that the old wizard appeared unharmed. Shaken, but unharmed.

He turned his attention to Draco, wrapping his arms firmly around his lover's trembling body and pulling him close. Draco buried his face in Harry's shoulder, fighting the inevitable backlash from drawing on so much power at once.

//Focus on me.// Harry instructed him, surrounding and soothing the pain that accompanied such a loss of magic. He began feeding Draco from his own wellspring of power, and Draco drank it in greedily, quickly regaining his stamina. He twined his arms around Harry, one around his waist, the other across his shoulders. As his awareness returned, and the physical world once again took shape around him, he allowed his fingers to drift up into the soft hair at the nape of Harry's neck, finding an enormous amount of comfort from the feel of the soft strands on his fingers.

//I'm all right.// he said. He shifted his head slightly, turning his face into Harry's neck. Harry tightened his embrace, running his dry lips teasingly over the velvet skin of Draco's ear. //Did I hurt him?// Draco asked.

Harry couldn't help but smile at the question. Draco clearly couldn't have cared less if he had thrown Dumbledore through the window, despite his apparent concern for the old man's welfare.

//I'm afraid not, love// Harry answered. //Better luck next time.//

Draco snorted and finally lifted his head, slowly pulling away from Harry as he did so. Gritting his teeth, he turned back to Dumbledore. " My apologies for losing my temper…sir," he added almost as an afterthought. Harry rolled his eyes and turned his attention to Severus.

Severus's face was, as usual, a mask of indifference, but Harry doubted he was as uninterested as he appeared to be. The Headmaster, on the other hand, while usually as stoic and aloof as his Potions Master, had pink tinged cheeks and wide, round eyes. His gaze was fixed squarely on the two of them, and Harry swore he could see the old man scheming, even as he recovered from the confrontation.

Draco's thoughts echoed Harry's. //I do believe I can actually see him plotting, right before my eyes// he said as he ran a shaky hand through his hair.

Dumbledore raised a hand, which was completely steady Draco noticed, and indicated for Harry and Draco to reseat themselves. After they had, he wasted little time in returning to business. Harry noticed there was no offer of tea this time.

"My apologies to both of you," he began. "Especially to you, Harry, for my thoughtless abuse of your trust." His voice, which has started out slightly weak, quickly gained strength even as his words gained speed. "I deserved that, Mr. Malfoy. It is I who should be apologizing, not you."

Draco briefly considered a nasty remark, something scathing about gross misconduct, but one glance at Harry's pleading eyes had him biting his tongue. He merely nodded in acceptance of the apology, feeling somewhat mollified when Harry's gentle //thank you// floated across the bond.

"You had questions. I will answer as many as I can now. I ask for the rest to wait until tonight," Dumbledore said and then he sat back and regarded the two men over the rims of his glasses. Draco glanced at Severus, who was still hovering protectively at his mentor's shoulder. Dumbledore followed his gaze. "Off with you now, Severus. I am perfectly fine," he said with a slight pat to the other wizard's hand. Severus lifted it from the desk, snarling slightly at being patted like a puppy, and retreated to the corner once again.

Harry's grin followed him all the way. Some things never change, he thought, as he watched the Potions Master sulk off. He still loves the old man.

Draco's frown followed as well. Still in the old man's pocket, he thought. The idea of Severus under Dumbledore's thumb for all this time left a bitter taste in his mouth.

//Do not presume to understand their relationship.// He heard Harry say in his mind. //It's more complicated than it looks.//

Draco didn't respond, resolving to keep his own counsel on that issue.

Dumbledore was waiting patiently, so Harry began. "How much time has passed here?"

"The same as for you," Dumbledore replied, with a quirk of his eyebrow. "Did you expect it would be different?"

"Would he have asked otherwise?" Draco replied, clearly annoyed. At Draco's words, the side of Severus's mouth twitched.

"Well, I suppose not, Mr. Malfoy. An excellent point. Five years, Harry. Give or take a month or so. I cannot recall the exact date of your disappearance."

//The fuck he can't.// Draco yelled and Harry winced. //He can probably tell you down to the minute and second, the lying bastard.// Harry sent back a quick chastisement, but secretly agreed. Harry nodded at Dumbledore and dropped his head to stare at his lap, but he was in fact watching Severus like a hawk, and noticed his former professor was now frowning. So, Harry thought, you recognized the lie as well, didn't you? Severus looked up. Black eyes met his across the room. Before the unspoken communication was noticed by anyone else, Harry returned his attention to the Headmaster.

"Why didn't you think that we'd be curious about that? Didn't you know about the time distortions on the other side?" Harry cocked his head inquisitively. Dumbledore fidgeted in his seat and Draco's snort of amusement had Harry's own mouth straining upwards into a smile.

//He looks a tad uncomfortable, love.// Draco said.

"Good," Harry said aloud and Dumbledore glanced sharply at him.

"I beg your pardon, my boy?' he asked.

"Nothing," Harry said, waving him to continue. In the corner, Severus's eyes narrowed and turned speculative.

"Not much is known about the Light, Harry. From what little documentation we had, we knew you would be safe." He ignored Draco's look of shocked disbelief. "We knew so," he emphasized, looking pointedly at Draco, "And there were certain practical tests conducted to double and triple check that fact."

Harry shook his head tiredly, closed his eyes and raised his hands to cover his face. "You had my life planned out completely, didn't you?" he asked with weary resignation.

//He still does.// Draco told him and Severus's sad, shadowed look agreed.

Harry sighed. Quite suddenly, he was exhausted. "I've heard enough for now," he said quietly and felt Draco reaching out in concern, worried at the defeated sound of his lover's voice.

Dumbledore nodded. "I shall have Severus escort you to Grimmauld Place."

Harry nodded and it took every scrap of energy reserves he had to pull himself to his feet and follow the Potions Master to the fireplace. Draco hovered close by, purposefully placing himself between Harry and Dumbledore as they crossed the room.

"Until this evening, then," Dumbledore called just before they flooed away. Harry didn't answer.

Grimmauld Place, was of course, the same. The span of five years was a mere drop in the bucket of time for the ancient House of Black. If he had been a betting man, Harry may have even ventured that the dust that seemed to coat every surface in the house was in fact the same dust as had been there the last time he visited. In a way, Harry was grateful for the house's lazy march through history, even as the rest of the world moved resolutely forward.

It was comforting, this familiar place. And thankfully, mercifully it was empty.

Snape left Harry and Draco in the library with a firm squeeze to each of their shoulders and an admonishing look to Draco for his behavior in the Headmaster's office.

"What?" Draco said defensively. "He started it!"

Severus merely rolled his eyes and left to return to Hogwarts. Draco turned from the floo to find Harry smiling bemusedly at him. "Well, he did," Draco mumbled as he began a slow circuit of the room. Harry sighed and shed his cloak. His eyes followed Draco as he stalked around the room. And Draco did stalk – his movements were a combination of pure athletic grace and wary curiosity. Harry sank into the nearest chair, reveling in both its familiar comfort and the heavy silence of the house.

Hogwarts had been too noisy in his opinion.

"I see it's suitably dark and depressing. Just as mum always described it to me," Draco said as he ran his finger through a thick layer of dust. He grimaced at the stickiness of it. "Ugh, Potter. Don't you have house elves?"

Harry smiled. "None that you would want to meet, Draco. Trust me."

Draco stood for a second with his finger in the air, a look of disgust on his face, before he turned and wiped it off on the faded fabric of an equally dusty chair. "I do hope the bedrooms are considerably cleaner than this," he said haughtily.

Harry's eyes sparked and turned molten. "Would you like to find out?"

Draco glanced at Harry over his shoulder in surprise. "Are you up to that?"

"Am I ever not?"

Draco shed the mask of indifference he had been wearing since they had returned. His face softened and grew a lopsided smile. "I suppose not," he replied softly. For a long moment, they stared at each other across the room, letting their minds and bodies warm up to the idea. As each second ticked by, Harry felt the frenetic tension he had been harboring ebb away, only to be replaced seconds later with the hot flush of desire for his bondmate.

"How much time do we have?" Draco's desire-rough voice asked. Every so slowly, he began to move toward Harry, each movement precise and calculated. Harry grinned as he approached – he loved when Draco pounced him.

"A few hours," he answered. "Enough time even by our standards."

"So it would seem."

Draco crossed the last few feet between them and in a flash was straddling Harry on the chair. At first, they contented themselves with the small, telling touches of endearment that they had refrained from in front of the others. Draco gasped as his flagging strength rushed back. "We shouldn't go so long without touching," he said breathily. "The bond is still too new."

"I don't have a problem with that," Harry said. He slipped his hands underneath Draco's shirt and feathered calloused fingers over his chest. "Let's take this upstairs."

Draco moaned as Harry teased his nipples. "I don't think I can wait." He arched into Harry's touch, bringing them into closer contact. His hands slid between them and stroked the growing bulge in Harry's trousers.

"Shit, Draco. You're going to have to. I don't relish being caught in here when everyone arrives."

Pouting, Draco reluctantly released his grip. "Fine." He disentangled himself gracefully from Harry's clinging embrace and climbed off his lap. "Lead on."

Harry stood up and grabbed Draco's arm in one hand while adjusting his trousers with the other. "Where would you prefer?" he asked as he led Draco out of the library.

"I don't give a damn, Harry. Someplace with a bed, for Merlin's sake." Harry smiled at the thinly disguised desperation in his lover's voice.

"I think I can arrange that."

Two hours later, Harry was jerked from sleep by a strange sound. It hadn't been loud, more like a shuffling actually, but its incongruity with the silent house had Harry wide awake in less than a second and all his senses on high alert. Surprisingly, Draco slept on beside him. Harry frowned. The rush of adrenaline coursing through his system should have sent clamoring echoes of alarm down the bond, but Draco hadn't even stirred.

The room was completely black. From outside the window, a steady rain beat down on the house. Harry shivered, rankled by his inability to calm himself or identify the source of his unease. For several minutes, he stayed completely still, cradling an oblivious Draco against him, listening for any clue to the strange noise.

As the seconds ticked by, Harry's grip on Draco unconsciously tightened, and his breathing quickened. By the time he recognized the signs of the impending panic attack, his stranglehold on his lover should have had him squirming in discomfort, but Draco never moved.

The rational part of his mind screamed at him to calm down, to reclaim control, but Harry found its voice pitifully weak and far away. His training and experience bent and broke under the crippling fear crawling its way up his throat.

"Draco," he whispered, shaking the body in his arms slightly. When Draco didn't respond, didn't even move, Harry shook him harder. "Draco!" he cried, no longer concerned about keeping quiet or masking the fact that he was awake. At the sound of his voice, the shuffling started again. Harry's breath caught in his throat as he struggled to identify it. It sounded like the brush of material against skin and the quiet movement of bare feet on wood. It was all around him.

Harry shot up in bed and raised a trembling hand toward the dark, cold fireplace. "Incendio!" he cried and his tenuous control over his magic had the fire leaping up and out of the grate, illuminating the room in sharp relief before receding back and burning madly within the hearth.

Harry tried to scream, but his throat had closed completely. All he could manage was a keening moan as the fire illuminated what had been moving around the room.

Children stood all around the bed. They filled the room, boys and girls, toddlers and teenagers. The firelight danced off the surface of their sightless eyes, which were impossibly large and completely opaque. Harry's panic grew as he took in their pale, slack-jawed features. From some, blood dripped wetly from open wounds and splattered pitter-pat onto the gleaming wood floor. Others appeared unharmed until Harry noticed the scorched marks on their clothing, where a curse or spell had burned its way into their bodies.

"Please go away," he pleaded, his voice emerging as a hoarse croak from his mouth. But instead of obeying, the figures moved forward, crowding close to the bed. Harry shrunk back against the headboard, scooping up a still unresponsive Draco and holding him close. "Go away," he whispered again.

When the first tiny hands reached out to touch him, dripping blood onto the pristine wool blankets, Harry's paralysis broke – and he screamed. Immediately, the scene spun away, like water down a drain, but as Harry watched it go, a familiar hissing voice sounded in his mind.

"Welcome back, Harry Potter."

Harry clawed his way to consciousness, the scream dying on his lips. Strong arms held him and rocked him gently. He turned his face into Draco's chest and pressed his ear tightly against the warm skin, letting the steady heartbeat chase the gruesome images from his mind. As the fear gradually receded, Harry felt embarrassment take its place. Huffing in self-disgust, he tried to pull away, but Draco refused to let him go, instead leaning down and ghosting a kiss across his chapped lips.

"No, love. Don't let him drive anything between us."

Harry caught his breath. Draco knew. By the gods, he knew. But, as Harry slowly recovered his faculties, and the dream's horror faded even further, he realized that the bond was functioning exactly as it should, giving Draco access to the deepest reaches of Harry's mind – where he kept his fears, his insecurities and also, his failures.

"He knows I'm back," Harry said needlessly, but Draco only nodded, not commenting on the inane statement.

"We should have known better. You should have cleared your mind before going to sleep."

Harry laughed humorlessly. "Do you know how long it's been since I've had to do that?" he asked with a trace of bitterness in this voice.

"Yes."

The soothing rocking continued, and Harry reluctantly put his stupid error behind him. They had plenty of other things to worry about right now. And besides, Voldemort would have learned of his return soon enough. Harry didn't plan on hiding this time around. If he had his way, the fight would occur sooner rather than later.

"Is it time?"

Draco hummed an affirmative, but never ceased his stroking, nor did he ease his tight hold. "I've been hearing movement and voices downstairs for the past half hour."

Harry sighed deeply. "Better get a shower then." He slid out of Draco's arms and left the bed.

"Want company?" Draco smiled and stretched. Harry watched fondly, admiring the way his lover's body moved and flexed.

"A silly question."

Harry likened the trip down to the kitchen to walking the plank. He knew that the people waiting for him held all the expectations, preconceptions and prejudices of his old life. The thought of seeing Remus, Hermione and Ron was just enough of an incentive to keep his feet moving down the stairs, through the hall and to the closed door of the kitchen.

From the other side, raised voices shouted over one another, and Harry wondered if all the excitement was about their return. "No," Draco said from beside him. "The excitement is for your return. Not mine. I imagine I'll be quite left out of this little gathering."

Later, Harry would replay those words in his head and wince at how naïve they were. For all the knowledge and power they had gained over the past five years, in many ways they were still just seventeen years old – unfamiliar with the spin and politicking that so often occurs in the world of adults.

But now, before the meeting, Harry just smiled weakly and stole a quick kiss, opened his mind completely to the bond so that he and Draco could communicate mentally, and pushed the door open.

As they entered, Draco choked back a sudden feeling of claustrophobia. The room held about a dozen people, only some of which he recognized, but it was crowded enough that even in the spacious kitchen, he felt trapped. Cornered. Harry experienced his own spike of trepidation, but pushed ahead, while at the same time reassuring Draco as best he could through their connection.

At first, there was no reaction, the occupants being so tied up in their petty battles they didn't even notice the newcomers. Then, someone gasped and the rest fell silent as they turned to look at their long lost savior and his companion.

Harry quickly scanned the faces, picking out Ron, Hermione, Remus, Severus and Dumbledore before turning his attention to the others. Molly and Bill Weasley stood together near the far side of the room, and beside them was Professor McGonagall. On the opposite side of the table, were Mad-Eye Moody, Mundungus Fletcher and Kingsley Shaklebolt. And finally, Harry saw Tonks, peeking over Remus's shoulder, her shockingly purple hair the only color in the room save the bright red pitcher of pumpkin juice which sat untouched on the table.

Harry took a deep breath. "Hello, everyone."

Harry thought his voice sounded unsure, tentative even, but Draco reassured him that his statement had been delivered with a quiet confidence. At first, no one moved. In fact, no one appeared to even breathe. Finally, Remus stepped forward.

"Harry," was all he said as he took a few cautious steps, but Harry heard the barely suppressed emotion in his old friend's voice and met him halfway across the room. When Remus paused, looking torn, and made an abortive gesture to offer his hand, Harry laughed and pulled the werewolf into a tight hug. It only took a moment for Remus to join Harry's laughter with his own quiet chuckle and return the embrace whole-heartedly.

"I have missed you, Remus," Harry said quietly to his honorary godfather.

"And I you, Harry." Remus clapped him once more on the back. "I expect we're to hear quite the story tonight, hmm?" His gaze slipped past Harry to Draco. For the briefest second, something flashed in his eyes, then it was gone. Remus stepped forward and extended his hand. "Welcome back, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco blanched. "Please don't call me that, Professor. I would prefer if you would call me Draco." A flicker of surprise crossed Remus's face, but he didn't hesitate to reciprocate.

"I haven't been your Professor for many years, Draco. Why don't you call me Remus?"

Draco nodded and Remus turned back to Harry. Draco didn't want to admit it, even to himself, but being called 'Mr. Malfoy' had left a cold, hollow feeling in his gut. For a second, he had actually felt nauseous. Any reminder of his father affected him that way – left him feeling sick with both disgust and dread.

People began to step forward and Draco was carried along through the happy reunion, allowing the shock of being so profoundly reminded of his father to fade. Until it was thrown back in his face in a rather abrupt and disturbing manner.

"Mr. Malfoy." Draco turned toward the voice, not recognizing the slovenly man to whom it belonged.

"Yes?"

The man moved closer and the people surrounding him parted like the Red Sea. "I'm not sure what you think you are going to accomplish. But I for one am not going to sit around and discuss private Order business with a Malfoy."

Draco forced himself to hold his ground and not step back. Although the one thing he had been dreading since they had come back through the Light was finally happening, he refused to show weakness or otherwise appear defensive in any way. He drew himself up, pulled his magic around him and stared the bedraggled man down.

"Do I know you, sir?" Draco asked calmly.

"The name's Fletcher, Malfoy, and I would advise you not to forget it."

Draco opened his mouth to inform the worm he was planning on doing just that when a hand fell on his shoulder. Draco didn't need to turn to know Harry was there.

"Is there a problem, Dung?" Harry asked, his voice as calm as Draco's, the only difference being the dangerous edge he had infused it with.

Draco would have expected a grown wizard to recognize a threat when he heard one, especially a member of the notorious Order of the Phoenix. However, perhaps he was giving credit where credit wasn't due, because the man plowed ahead, unmindful of Harry's implied warning.

"I was just telling your little 'friend', Harry, that we don't take kindly to Malfoys around here."

Draco groaned softly and closed his eyes. //Please don't make a scene.// he pleaded with Harry, but his lover's temper had already reached a dangerous point and he had completely tuned out Draco's voice of reason. He pulled his hands from Hermione's, which she had been holding while she gushed emotional platitudes, and planted them firmly on his hips. He didn't move in front of Draco, not presuming to fight whatever battle was building, but his defensive posture made it clear that he would not tolerate such treatment of his companion. And that, in fact, it made him very angry.

The gesture was so very…chivalrous …that Draco couldn't hold back a smile. //My hero.// he sent with a dose of genuine amusement. Harry's lips twitched, but his gaze didn't waver from Dung's. Draco felt the crackle of magic around him as Harry's temper flared even further. He knew he was not the only one – the offensive man, 'Dung,' (how appropriate, Draco thought) noticed it too. Nervously, he licked his lips and darted a quick glance around the room.

Draco, too, looked around, wondering which side people would come down on. Most, he noticed, looked discomfited, and very few would meet his eyes. So, he thought trying to ignore a pang of regret, nothing has really changed. I will always be a Malfoy. No matter what.

Harry felt his bondmate's pain, and cursed the situation. He had worked long and hard to convince Draco he was so much more than just a Malfoy. A name he had no control over and had been saddled with since birth – much like Harry. He was no more a Malfoy anymore than Harry was a Potter. They had become different people these past years. They had become their own people. The rest of the world, however, had obviously failed to move on.

"Yes, Mundungus. He is my friend. And you would do well to remember that." Harry let his gaze sweep the room, tacitly including everyone in the declaration. Draco sighed inwardly and waited for the inevitable explosion.

Surprisingly, it never came. Dumbledore stepped forward, drawing the unwavering attention of everyone in the room. Draco watched with barely concealed disgust.

//Oh, for the love of Merlin! When he farts, do they sing the gospel?//

//Behave!// Harry ordered, but he couldn't stop a small tendril or mirth from escaping across the bond. //He may be a manipulative bastard, but he has done some great things in his lifetime, Draco. He's earned these people's respect.//

Draco formed and discarded a hundred responses to that statement before finally deciding to honor his lover's wish and behave. It was the least he could do for Harry in this already awkward situation.

"I will explain the details of Harry and Draco's absence now that everyone is here. Please take your seats. And please, my friends, let us try to put our preconceived notions and prejudices behind us. I personally vouch for Mr. Malfoy and that should be all any of you require."

Harry shot him a triumphant look as they took their seats, but Draco just sniffed indifferently. The old man wasn't going to purchase _his_ loyalty so easily.

After what Draco considered an almost physically painful meeting recounting the last five years of his life, he and Harry were finally allowed to escape. By mutual agreement, they had held back several pieces of information, and were frankly downright evasive on others. Harry just didn't want these people to know everything – yet. Draco smirked; he loved watching Harry give free reign to his Slytherin instincts. All agreed that another meeting with the full complement of members would be needed before any decisions were made. Draco snorted as the motion was passed. Even the rabble has its bureaucracy, he thought.

He endured a stoic Ron and an obviously hormonal Hermione as they verbalized their support for his "admirable" decision to serve the light. He even held his tongue when Granger broke down yet again, threw her arms around his lover, and slobbered all over him. But when it looked as though Ron might be contemplating a similar lewd display, Draco put his foot down.

//If he touches you, it's no sex for a month.// he shot at Harry as he watched Ron sniff back yet another round of tears. Harry paled, and in the span of thirty seconds had excused himself from the couple, making copious promises to visit soon and meet their children.

"We would love for you to come as well, Draco," Hermione said as Ron led her away. "Really," she insisted when Draco didn't agree right away. "Please, Draco. I know we don't have the best history together, but please consider it?"

Draco found himself nodding before he even realized it and scowled when Hermione smiled brilliantly and gave in to her husband's pull toward the floo. After sending Hermione through, Ron turned back to Harry. "Glad you're back, mate." He seemed to struggle for a moment, then added, "And you too, Draco. I think…well, I think we should talk soon." This rather innocuous statement, delivered with a pointed look, had Harry on guard immediately.

"What do you mean, Ron?"

Ron just pressed his lips together and grabbed a handful of floo powder. "Just watch out for him, Harry," he said and then with a slight nod in Draco's direction, he was gone.

"Oh, joy. More cryptic hints." Draco sighed and dropped into a nearby chair. Despite his nonchalance, his face was tight with worry, and Harry could see the beginnings of dark circles under his eyes. He stared into space for a moment before looking at Harry.

"I suppose that means there's a price on my head or something."

Harry frowned and Draco immediately regretted his selfishness. His lover had more than enough on his plate at the moment. He shouldn't have to worry about this as well. Draco pulled himself out of the chair, even though it was a struggle. He swore the cushion was charmed to feel like pure heaven and gods, he was tired.

"Enough, Harry. The last couple of days have been…challenging." He swept the loose fringe from his lover's forehead, letting his fingers dance over Harry's cheek and down his neck. "Don't think about it now. Let's go to bed. And I mean, to sleep."

A small smile worked its way onto Harry's face. "Sure you do."

Draco clapped his hand to his heart, looking affronted. "Would I lie to you, Harry?" Harry snickered, letting some of the tension melt from his body.

The two enjoyed a relieved laugh, before Harry stepped forward and rested his head on Draco's shoulder. They both sighed contentedly before their arms snaked around each other. The bond reacted, humming happily, and Harry let it fill his mind. He opened himself completely, as did Draco, and they freely traded the day's triumphs, failures, disappointments and joys back and forth, offering comfort when needed, and reaffirming their commitment.

Draco sensed Harry's trepidation over Ron's parting statements and he soothed it. Harry recognized Draco's frustration over being labeled and judged because of his name, and he consoled him. This went on for some time, until both felt revived. Harry was just about to suggest they retire, when the doors to the library flew open and Severus and Remus literally flew into the room.

"Boys!" Remus hissed. "You have to go. Now!"

Harry didn't so much as twitch, but Draco felt his lover's body tense and sensed his magic coil up inside him, ready to strike. He spared an angry thought for the two men now hurrying across the room towards them. Someone was going to learn the hard way that it was not a good idea to startle Harry.

Severus rushed to the fireplace, robes flapping, and tossed a handful of floo powder into the flames. "Snape Manor," he called as the flames turned green.

"Hurry!" Remus urged, pushing Harry and Draco toward the floo, but Harry planted his feet and refused to move.

"What the hell is going on?" he demanded and Severus growled in annoyance.

"You never change, Potter. For once, will you just do what you're told!"

All four turned as shouts were heard from the hall outside. Draco distinctly heard the words, 'Ministry', 'Aurors', and 'arrest'. He turned to Harry.

"Perhaps we should bow to the wisdom of our elders," he joked, but Harry could hear the tremulous fear in his voice. Without another word, he grabbed Draco and dragged him to the fireplace. As he shoved him through, he turned to Severus and Remus and fixed them with a deadly glare.

"Don't keep me waiting," he warned. "I'll give you an hour to show up and tell me what the fuck is going on!"

To his perverse enjoyment, both men recoiled. With a growl, Harry grabbed his own handful of powder and threw it at the fire. "Snape Manor," he called and disappeared into the green flames.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven  
Chasing a Lie**

  
  
  


 

Seclusion from the world's vast moral dealings hadn't deteriorated Harry's own code of ethics. He always told the truth. So when he said he expected Severus or Remus to join them at Snape Manor and explain themselves, or the consequences would be dire – he hadn't been joking. He waited exactly one hour, pacing the elegant living room while Draco looked on, before he strode to the fireplace, angry and determined to get some answers. Draco intercepted him halfway across the room.

"Let's not be rash," he said, only half-teasing. However, he held his arm firmly in place when Harry tried to push forward. "Give them some time, Harry."

"They've had an hour."

"It may seem like an eternity to you," he paused when Harry shot him a dark look, "All right, it's seems like an eternity to me as well, but Harry – we don't know what's happening. You could rush in there and muck up all their hard work. And then where we would be?" He felt Harry relax against his restraining arm, but only marginally. "Trust in Severus," he pleaded.

Harry's eyes smoldered. He turned to Draco and took the arm that had been across his chest and placed it on his hip. "I trust you, Draco. Only you." The words were said with frightening conviction and finality, and Draco swallowed heavily at the obvious emotion behind them.

Frankly, he didn't feel the least bit amorous at the moment. Yet, both the young bond and his own deep love compelled him to lean forward and press his lips to Harry's. The kiss began gently, a simple acknowledgment of Harry's trust, but as usual, rapidly escalated into a burning need that had his head spinning, insides churning, and body achingly aroused.

Harry responded by pulling his bondmate against him and kissing him deeply. Draco could practically taste Harry's frustration and fear, and forced himself not to rise and meet the desperate passion, lest he feed Harry's anxiety. He kept the contact deep, but soft, until finally he felt the tension ebb from his lover's body. Only when Harry had relaxed against him did Draco step up the kiss, clutching handfuls of Harry's hair and t-shirt, pulling him even closer. They were touching everywhere, and still it didn't seem to be enough. Draco was contemplating how to manhandle Harry over to the couch when the flames of the fireplace flashed green and two figures stepped out.

They jumped away from each other, but it was obviously too late. Both Remus and Severus had seen the amorous embrace. Snape huffed in disgust, but didn't comment. He had an arm around Remus's waist, supporting the other man. Draco's healing instincts rose to the fore as he took in the werewolf's bedraggled state. Even though Remus was looking the two of them over with a knowing smile, pain etched his features and a trickle of blood seeped from under the sleeve of his robe to drip down his hand.

"Are we interrupting anything, boys?" he asked in a rough voice as Snape helped him to the couch.

"It'll keep, Remus," Harry joked back, but concern colored his words, taking away any power the sarcastic comment might have normally carried. "What happened?"

"A disagreement with the Aurors. They didn't appreciate Remus's attitude," Severus answered tiredly.

"You have an attitude?" Harry asked in mock astonishment.

"He does when it comes to you," Severus answered.

"How can they get away with that?" Harry demanded. "Attacking a member of the Order!"

He watched as Remus and Severus exchanged an unreadable look, but neither answered. Severus lowered the werewolf gently to the couch and then hovered uncertainly as he groaned and laid his head back against the cushion.

Draco strode forward, pushing Severus out of the way as he did so. He knelt next to Remus and began deftly unbuttoning the robe from his thin frame.

It took Severus a moment to recover, but when Draco began pushing the tattered robe off Remus's shoulders, he quickly stepped in. "What…."

"Leave it be, Severus," Harry said from beside him. He laid a comforting hand on Severus's arm. "He knows what he's doing. Trust me."

Severus pursed his lips together and straightened. He crossed his arms and clasped them tightly in his hands. Harry, standing less than a foot away, could feel the worried tension radiating from his body. Obviously, Remus could as well.

"I'll be fine, Severus," he said as Draco continued to examine the long, ugly gash on the werewolf's left forearm. "Just a scratch."

"Well, it's a bit more than that, Pro…Remus. I recognize this slicing hex, and it can be particularly nasty. But, you're right. It should be fine." Draco frowned at the cut, not liking how deep it was near the lower end. Deciding on a mending spell, he lifted both of his hands to hover over the wound and took a deep breath. "Relax," he told Remus.

"What are you doing?" Severus demanded, pulling against Harry's restraining grip. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Harry couldn't help but smile. The nature of the relationship between these two, mere theory a few hours ago, was now plainly evident. Draco had obviously come to the same conclusion.

"Back off, Sev. He doesn't need you to hold his hand."

Severus sputtered, but Remus just laughed. He turned his amber eyes to meet Severus's black ones. "It's fine, Severus. Let Draco help." The few spoken words communicated only a fraction of what passed between them, causing each of their gazes to turn warm, and finally Severus conceded and once again stepped back.

"Thank you," Draco said. Turning his attention back to Remus, he began the healing spell, focusing on doing a good job of the repair. This man already carried enough scars on his body in Draco's opinion. During their time alone together, Harry had explained at length the hardships Remus had faced in his life, causing the man to appear much older than he truly was.

"Hold still."

Draco focused his gathering energy on the jagged line of broken flesh, prompting it to close. He divided his efforts, focusing half on repairing the damage below the skin, where the cut had come perilously close to a couple of tendons. The other half he dedicated to the repair of the skin itself, taking more care than he normally would to ensure it knitted evenly and with minimal scaring. The extra effort was taxing, but when he opened his eyes and saw the result, he decided it had been worth it.

Remus was staring at his arm, eyes wide with surprise. Tentatively, he reached out to run a calloused finger down the line of the cut, now barely visible on his skin as a thin white line. Astonished, he raised his eyes to Severus.

Severus had watched Draco heal Remus, with apparently nothing more than a well-practiced spell and sheer will. At no point had the boy reached for his wand, or even looked unsure of how to proceed. It was this demonstration, more than the hours of tales he had heard earlier that evening about Harry and Draco's "missing" years, that cemented the truth for him.

These boys held enormous power at their fingertips. So much that, more than likely, they didn't understand the extent of it. It was both a wonderful and terrible realization, for it made what just happened at headquarters even more dangerous. Should the Ministry ever suspect the true extent of their power…

Remus was watching him. "Yes," he agreed, knowing exactly where Severus's thoughts lay. "They must never know."

Draco stood a bit shakily, thankful when Harry stepped forward to steady him. "They must never know what," he said, noting the passing look between the two older men.

Severus sighed, and didn't answer immediately. With a snap of his fingers, he summoned a house elf. After ordering drinks and a light snack, as well as some restorative potions for Remus, he sat down heavily on the couch. Knowing it was useless to do so, he didn't protest when Remus slid a hand onto his leg and squeezed gently.

Neither Harry nor Draco commented on the intimate gesture. They waited patiently as the house elf returned and spread the offerings of sandwiches and cakes on the table. After handing Severus the two potion vials he had requested from his rooms, the house elf scampered off.

Harry waited while Severus offered Remus the potions, and Remus, seeing the grave look in his lover's eye, swallowed the purple concoctions without complaint. Harry drew Draco to the opposite sofa and prodded him to sit. They continued to wait as Severus poured tea and offered it around. Finally, however, his already thin patience snapped.

"Tell me what happened," he demanded. "We've spent enough time tonight reviewing our lives," he waved a finger between Draco and himself, "and now we want to hear what the hell is going on. Why is the Ministry involved? Why were they at the house?"

Draco didn't even allow Severus a second to compose his answer before cutting in. "It was me, wasn't it," he said quietly. "They were there for me."

Severus nodded once. "They were," he admitted.

"Why?"

"Your father."

Draco snorted and made to jump from the couch in agitation, but Harry stopped him. "Isn't it always," he hissed as he sat down. Sullenly, he began picking at a loose thread on the cushion. It seemed he would never escape from his father's long, dark shadow.

Harry clenched his jaw. "How did they know we were there?" he asked slowly, refusing to let his temper get the better of him. Severus regarded him carefully over the rim of his teacup.

"What do your instincts tell you?"

Harry felt like telling Severus to go to hell, and take his goddamned instincts with him. Even after all these years, however, the urge to take the role of student, to justify his answers and motivations, and to second-guess his enemy was too ingrained to ignore.

"Someone told them?" he answered sarcastically, teeth grinding together in frustration, but Severus merely sipped his tea and nodded.

"That's a start," he said, nodding his head.

Draco jumped into the fray. "Either someone who saw us at Hogwarts or…"

"Someone from the Order," Harry finished, eyes glazing over as he contemplated.

Remus shook his head as he replaced his empty cup on the table. "No, I cannot believe someone from the Order would involve the Ministry. It had to be someone who saw you at the school earlier today."

Harry groaned in frustration, and threw his arms into the air as he leaned back against the cushion. "We were in the middle of a throng of students, Remy. It could have been any one of them."

All four contemplated the possibilities silently as they finished their tea. Harry finally spoke. "If I speak to the Ministry, tell them what really happened to us, they should drop all charges against Draco, shouldn't they, Remus? I mean, he's clearly not my enemy."

Severus frowned into his tea. "That is not necessarily where some people wanted your loyalties."

"Well, they can go fuck themselves! What does Lucius have to do with this?" Harry asked. "And you never answered my question by the way – why was the Ministry after Draco if it's Lucius causing all the problems?"

Remus took a careful sip of his tea, his arm still shaky despite Draco's superior healing. "When you both…disappeared…the rumors…" he stopped and sighed. "There's no delicate way to put this."

"Everyone thought Draco kidnapped me and handed me over to his father," Harry guessed.

"Yes," Remus affirmed.

"I never meant to join Lucius. Ever," Draco ground out. Harry squeezed his hand, and Draco reached through the bond for reassurance, upset despite his past claims to the contrary that he didn't care what other people had thought about him. He felt Harry's love wash over him in a gentle wave, and he let it carry some of the resentment away.

"We know that, Draco," Severus said. "But the ones who knew the truth were so few, and we could not, despite our best efforts, cease the spread of rumors."

"Lucius has done some terrible things these past years since his escape from Azkaban. So now, if given the chance to take Draco into custody, despite the lack of any evidence whatsoever that this ridiculous story is true, the Ministry will take advantage of it. They will arrest him and try to use him against Lucius." Remus's words were delivered with quiet certitude.

At Harry's shocked disbelief, Severus sighed and set his teacup down. Glancing at Remus for permission, he took the other man's hand in his, stroking the scarred knuckles gently. His voice, when he spoke, sounded more defeated than Harry had ever heard. "These have been dark years, Harry. So little hope remains. With you gone, the fight has gone out of so many. There is a pervading sense of hopelessness and defeat. Voldemort has taken advantage, of course, and has recruited many to his cause because of it."

Now it was Harry's turn to bolt from the couch in anger. "Why me?" he said bitterly as he paced around the room. "For once, why can't someone else have the balls to step forward and…do something?"

Too fatigued and emotionally wrung out to stay angry for long, Harry ceased his pacing and stopped in front of the widow. He stared out into the manicured garden below. If he hadn't been so upset, he surely would have appreciated the beauty of the secluded courtyard. The garden was just waking up, responding to the warm spring days, and Harry could tell it would be a spectacular show of colors when the plants reached full bloom. He and Draco had seen many exquisite gardens over the years. Some, like this, were hidden from the general public, to be enjoyed only by a select few. Privately, he had always thought it was a shame. It was inspiring, witnessing such an intimate marriage between form and chaos. It sang of power. Harry could feel it more now than ever before, thanks to his relatively new appreciation and understanding of earth magic.

Something niggled in the back of his brain.

He tuned out the conversation around him while he chased the elusive idea, but it kept bouncing out of reach. He was so caught up in this thoughts, he was startled to suddenly feel Draco's presence in his mind.

//Am I interrupting anything?// His lover asked, with a hint of amusement. Harry smiled and turned away from the window. He noticed both Remus and Severus looking at him strangely, and with a sigh, sent a question to Draco.

//How long have I been out of it?//

//A few minutes// came the reply. Draco smirked when Harry gave him a sheepish look.

//Sorry.// Harry returned to the couch and inclined his head in Severus and Remus's direction. "My apologies," he said.

Severus's eyes grew comically wide and Draco's laugh echoed in Harry's head. "What did I miss?" he asked, directing his question mostly at Draco. But is was Remus who answered. He smiled softly at Harry's confusion and placed his hand over the one Severus had resting on his leg.

"Nothing, Harry. It's just…when you drifted off…." His voice faded as though he was unsure of how to proceed, and Draco helpfully filled in the blanks.

"You relaxed the hold on your magic, Harry."

Harry winced. "Ahhh." He smiled sheepishly again. "Sorry about that," he said to Remus and Severus. "I was distracted by an idea, but…I couldn't pin it down." He shook his head in frustration.

Over three years ago, Harry had turned the corner on his power, working each waking minute to keep it reigned in, rather than call it out, as most witches and wizards did. Draco always teased him whenever his control slipped. It had been a long time, however, since he had been so preoccupied that he had relaxed the firm hold he kept on himself, allowing his power to burst free and cause some sort of havoc.

Harry glanced around. "Did I break anything?" he asked.

Draco smiled affectionately. "No. Just made all Severus's expensive little trinkets rattle about."

Harry shot a glance at Severus, noting the Potions Master didn't seem too put out. "Again, I'm sorry," he said. "It's just that, this idea…" his voice trailed off as his eyes lost their focus again.

Severus narrowed his eyes. "Was it important?"

Harry nodded and answered with conviction, "Yes…it was."

"It will come back to you then."

Harry nodded, unconvinced, and still upset he had not been able to make sense of the elusive images.

For several moments, no one spoke. Then Remus shifted on the couch. Severus was jolted from his musings by his partner's restless movement. "Are you all right?" he asked, and both Harry and Draco smiled at the thinly veiled tenderness in his voice.

"Fine," Remus answered. He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I am truly awed, boys – I suppose I shouldn't call you that – at the levels of experience and control you each possess. It is quite obvious that you have not spent the past five years idling away your time. Did you hone your powers purposefully for this eventuality?"

All at once, Harry felt as though he were seventeen again. Would it help matters to admit that they had never planned to return? That, in fact, Harry had put this responsibility out of his mind for years now. Looking across the table to the two men on the couch, Harry felt the guilt crash over him.

They sat side by side, Severus holding himself stiffly away from Remus, even though their hands were joined. Harry could tell they wanted nothing more than to melt together, taking what comfort they could from each other's presence, but were holding back, most likely out of habit. Harry swallowed heavily at the many new lines etched into their faces, the new scars on their bodies, and the hollow look in their eyes.

He was responsible for all the pain they had suffered. By flitting away his time with Draco, by convincing himself he deserved the chance to live a safe and happy life, he had sacrificed these men. He had left them alone in an increasingly hostile world, where thankfully, they had eventually turned to each other, but even that small consolation didn't scratch the surface of his shame.

//Stop thinking like that.// Draco scolded. //They wouldn't like it and neither do I. Those two, above anyone else, are capable of taking care of themselves. You should know that.//

//But it didn't have to be like this.// Harry answered. //I could have returned sooner and prevented at least some of this…pain.//

//Maybe.// Draco conceded. Truth was truth, and he knew Harry didn't need to be shielded from it. He sighed when Harry, radiating misery, averted his eyes from Remus's gaze.

"It's all right, Harry," Remus finally said, and Draco realized how strange their silent conversation must look like to the other two men. "You don't owe us anything," he said kindly.

Harry's head snapped around. "How can you say that, Remus? I owe you everything. Both you and Severus. You have always been there for me, teaching me, supporting me, and how did I repay you?" Harry leapt to his feet again. "I hid!" he yelled. "I deliberately hid, like a coward!"

Harry was breathing heavily, tumultuous emotions running away with his control. He could feel the strain of the past several days shred what was left of his calm façade, and with a soft, strangled sound he collapsed onto the couch and cradled his head in his hands. Severus rose to his feet and stared down at Harry across the small table. "What's done is done, Harry. You must not let it cloud your actions from here on out. This misplaced culpability will only make you weak."

Sound advice from a keenly intelligent man, Harry's mind told him. But it was not so easy to turn off the guilt. In desperation, he reached for Draco, and in a heartbeat, his lover was there, circling his arms around Harry and whispering into his ear, "I'm here." Harry's eyes fluttered closed as the contact reawakened the bond and the rapturous feelings that it evoked.

When he opened them again, Severus was helping Remus to stand. Remus reached over and squeezed Harry's shoulder as he passed. "I think it would be best if we let you two rest. Albus is still working to find out who alerted the Ministry to your presence at Grimmauld Place, and until we hear something, the wisest course of action is to stay here and out of sight." His eyes sparkled as they moved from Harry to Draco and back again. "Congratulations, by the way, on your bond."

Harry felt Draco stiffen beside him. He placed his own arms over Draco's where they rested around his waist. "How did you know?" he asked Remus.

"I recognize the signs," Remus said cryptically.

After brief goodnights, Harry watched as Severus led Remus out of the living room. Reluctantly, he separated himself from Draco. "I suppose he's right. We should rest. We don't know what to expect tomorrow."

"I agree," Draco purred as he dragged Harry back toward him. Harry laughed, but didn't resist the pull.

"Draco, I'm exhausted."

Draco smiled evilly and bent to suck gently at Harry's neck. "Are you positive?" he whispered, lapping at Harry's throat before moving to the shell of his ear. Harry moaned and grabbed Draco, crushing their bodies together. He had been truthful when he had said he was exhausted, but Draco's mouth was rapidly convincing his body otherwise.

"Upstairs," he croaked and Draco did his best not to look too smug.

Several hours later, Draco awoke to a vague feeling of unease. Beside him, Harry slept peacefully, and was clearly not the source of his trepidation. The quiet ticking of the mantle clock sitting regally above the smoldering embers of their fire was the only sound Draco could hear. Snape's house was full of ancient tapestries and rugs; family heirlooms, he had said. But they absorbed sound so efficiently, made everything so muted, that Draco couldn't help but feel as though his ears were packed with cotton.

He listened carefully for a clue as to why he had awakened, and was rewarded with a soft thump from somewhere in the house. Draco slipped out of bed, snatched his discarded jeans from the floor and hauled them on. He didn't bother with a shirt, but he did grab his wand. Stuffing it into his back pocket, and with one backward glance at Harry, he slipped from the room. As Draco walked warily through the upper floor toward the staircase, he turned his mind inward and dampened the bond. Harry had been in a deep, restful sleep, and Draco didn't want to disturb him. After all, he had worked for over an hour to clear his mind before bed – hopefully ensuring Voldemort would not be able to reach him through his dreams again. By dampening the bond, Draco wouldn't inadvertently wake Harry should something startle him. And there was plenty of chance for that at Snape Manor, Draco thought at he walked slowly down the hall. Not quite as bad as that crumbling relic the Blacks called a house, but nearly as gloomy and spooky.

He passed a room with the shimmering magical signature of a silencing ward, and couldn't help a wry smile. Who would have guessed that those two….

THUMP!

Draco stopped in his tracks and extended his senses. After checking to make sure Harry still slept soundly, he proceeded with extra caution down the stairs and into the main hall. Toward the back of the house, the THUMP came again, and this time a rush of magic accompanied it.

Draco crept down the long hall until he came to the kitchen door. Light spilled from underneath it and bathed his bare feet in a yellow glow. Pressing his ear to the door, he could make out a faint voice talking. And although he waited several minutes, another never joined it. After several more bumps and thumps, Draco decided to risk a peek. He eased the door open just enough to see the far end of the kitchen.

Standing on a rickety stool and reaching up toward a high shelf for a teapot stood Mundungus Fletcher. The stool wobbled dangerously as he stretched onto his toes, and Draco cringed as he saw it begin to slide out from underneath the man's crusty boots. Acting without thought, Draco pulled his wand from his back pocket and pointed it at the stool just as it went flying.

"Wingardium Leviosa," he cried, and Dung's body stopped in mid-fall, no more than a foot off the hard stone tile. Draco laughed softly at the other man's shocked, indignant expression, but after Draco had righted his body and released the spell, Dung joined in the laughter.

"Thank you, young Mr. Malfoy. I didn't relish crashing to the floor like a sack of potatoes."

Draco shook his head, trying to hide his amused smile. "Whatever were you doing, Mr. Fletcher? Was that you making all the noise down here?"

"That was me," the dirty man admitted. "I was trying to summon a damn teapot from up there," he waved dismissively at the highest shelf, where a variety of teapots were stacked, "cause I fancied a spot of tea. Didn't want to bother the house elves," he muttered.

Draco tilted his head curiously, "Couldn't you summon it?" he asked.

Dung spat out another string of profanity and dropped into a chair. "No, that suspicious fool Snape has the whole kitchen charmed to respond to his house elf's magic only. Barmy old bat," he mumbled.

Draco laughed, because he could actually agree with the disgruntled man a bit. Without thinking, he reached out with this magic, slipped past Severus's wards, and summoned the largest teapot. It flew off the shelf and landed gracefully on the table. At Dung's shocked look, he laughed again. "I fancy a cup myself," he said.

Draco turned to fetch the tea and therefore missed the calculating look the other man sent his way. No more was said until the water had been boiled and the tea was steeping. Draco took a seat at the table to wait and Dung joined him. Draco watched as the filthy man – gods, did he ever bathe, Draco wondered – appeared to struggle for a moment before sighing and thrusting his hand across the table. Draco squelched a wave of disgust at the proffered filthy paw, but only hesitated a moment before reaching across with his own and shaking it.

Dung sat back and narrowed his eyes at Draco. "I'm not very good at apologies, young Mr. Malfoy, so don't expect some flowery speech to go along with that."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Draco replied with a quirk of his mouth.

Dung hoisted himself from the table and walked to the stove to prepare the tea. He spoke over his shoulder as he worked. Draco supposed it was too much to ask that Dung wash his hands, and figured the tentative peace he had been offered probably outweighed a bit of dirt on his cup, so he held his tongue.

"Don't appreciate being caught off guard like that, you know," Dung was saying as he poured the tea and carried it to the table.

Draco nodded. "I understand."

"Just like that old codger to withhold something that important from us."

"I'm sure he thought he was doing the right thing," Draco offered, frowning when he realized he had just defended Dumbledore.

Dung shrugged noncommittally, obviously disagreeing at least somewhat with Draco's statement, and for several minutes, they enjoyed their tea silently.

Draco felt himself relaxing for the first time in days. He thought some of it was simple fatigue, he did feel extraordinarily tired. And for the first time since entering the kitchen, he remembered the uneasy feeling he had experienced upon waking. He tried to examine it, knowing it was significant, but it kept slipping away.

He reached for the pot, hoping to shake the drowsy feeling with more hot tea, but found he could barely lift his arm from where it was resting on the table. Far away, through the haze of his confusion, alarm bells began ringing in his mind. He lifted his head, groaning when it seemed to weigh a ton, and fixed his blurred eyes on his companion.

"What have you done?" Draco slurred.

Dung was watching Draco's reaction with narrowed eyes. Calmly, he sipped his tea as he watched Draco struggle to stand, and remained impassive when the effort caused him to slip from his chair and collapse, boneless, to the floor.

Draco called on his magic, willing himself to stay conscious, but couldn't seem to garner any control at all. Belatedly, he reached for his wand, and wasn't surprised when it wasn't in his back pocket. When two muddy boots appeared in front of his face, he used what remaining energy he had to roll his head and look up at Dung.

"What have you done?" he repeated, barely able to form the words. He sent wave after wave of alarm down the bond to Harry, forgetting he had purposefully dampened it, and now, due to the drugged tea no doubt, he could barely feel it at all.

"Now, now, Malfoy," Dung was saying. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be. It's like this, see," he crouched down in front of Draco's face. "That boy has a job to do, and we've been waiting long enough for him to get it done. Now, he's back, and the opinion is he can't afford any distractions. The Ministry feels Mr. Potter would be able to focus on his task better if you were…out of harm's way, so to speak." Dung stood, and once again all Draco could see through his rapidly failing vision were two black, muddy boots.

He had a moment to reflect on the supreme unfairness of what was happening. He cursed himself for being so careless. He cursed everyone and everything that had forced them to come back. He ached for how he knew Harry would react when he discovered Draco's disappearance. For only the second time in his life – he prayed.

"Harry," he whispered.

Then everything went black.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve  
The Coming Storm**

  
  
  


 

His skin was on fire. In his sleep, Harry cringed and curled up around the intense pain centered on his chest. He struggled toward wakefulness, the journey becoming easier with each second as he realized something was terribly wrong. With a howl of pain and rage, he shot up in bed, ripping the burning amulet away from his skin. On his chest, where the amulet had been resting while he slept, a perfect circle of red, puckered skin was already beginning to blister. Harry didn't give it a second thought. He didn't need to look in the bed next to him or around the room to know Draco was in trouble.

Battling both fear and anger, he reached out across the bond as he stumbled from the bed, completely unmindful of his nakedness. Draco's presence was fuzzy and he didn't respond at all to Harry's frantic cries demanding to know what was wrong.

//Where are you?// he asked over and over as he stumbled from his room and into the hall. Draco's response was muddled and confused, and came through as a series of images and flashes, rather than a lucid train of thought. He was scared, that much was obvious.

Bellowing in rage, Harry ran down the hall toward the stairs. As he passed Severus's room, he heard loud banging from the other side, but didn't slow his headlong flight toward the kitchen, where he could vaguely sense Draco's presence. As he passed the room at a run, the door ripped from its hinges and flew across the hall, crashing into the opposite wall. Severus stepped though the splintered doorway, wand in hand, his face a mask of rage. His dressing gown, obviously hastily donned, was tied in a haphazard fashion around his waist and his long, black hair was flowing wildly about his face. From the corner of his eye, he saw a pale figure dash down the stairs.

"Harry!" he yelled. When Harry didn't even pause, Severus cursed loudly.

"What the fuck is going on?" he yelled over his shoulder to Remus. "Who put locking and silencing spells on this door?"

Remus just shook his head and pushed past an indignant Severus. "Something's wrong, Severus. Hurry!" Remus rushed down the hall after Harry, wearing nothing but a pair of flannel sleep pants. Cursing under his breath again, Severus quickly followed.

Harry's dread increased with each passing second. The trip from his bedroom to the kitchen took less than ninety seconds, yet it felt like an eternity. Each running step corresponded with a growing surety that something terrible was happening. He beat down his panic, experienced enough to know it would hinder both his power and his judgment, but it still scratched and clawed at him, demanding to be released. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he realized he was gasping one word over and over.

"Draco, Draco, Draco…."

From behind him, at the top of the landing, Remus called out to him. "Harry! What's wrong? Harry! Wait!"

_No, no, no_ , Harry thought. _Must get to Draco._ Ignoring the implied command in Remus's voice, he slid around the corner and out of sight. The hall leading to the kitchen was long and narrow, but straight, and Harry was able to pick up speed. He was only peripherally aware of the low, keening sound he was making in the back of his throat, as the hysteria came dangerously close to overwhelming him. He should have been able to sense Draco more clearly now – Harry knew he was close-yet the connection was fading, leaving an empty hole in Harry's head where the bright presence of his lover should be. Still new to the bond, Harry couldn't pinpoint exactly what was happening, so terror stepped in and painted the worst-case scenario.

Draco was dying, Harry was sure. What other reason could there be for the bond to be so muted, for it to have faded so dramatically? Even in sleep, they were intimately connected and hyper-aware of each other. _God damn it! Why didn't I wake up sooner?_

Putting on an extra burst of speed, Harry cried out in surprise when Remus suddenly appeared in front of him with a loud crack and caught him in his arms. "Harry! What is it?"

So close, so close, his mind screamed. With a howl of rage, Harry released a burst of magic, pushing Remus away from him, ignoring the loud thump as the other man flew across the passage and hit the opposite wall.

"Remus!" he heard Severus call out from somewhere behind him.

Harry ignored Severus just as he ignored Remus's weak groan from the floor. He threw himself bodily though the door, his overpowering need to get to Draco bringing his primal instincts to the fore. All that mattered was Draco, getting to Draco, and be it magic or brute strength, Harry was not going to be deterred from doing just that.

As he stumbled into the room, the fragile flame that had been the last of their lingering connection winked out. Desperately trying to regain his balance, Harry looked up just in time to see Mundungus Fletcher disappear through the fireplace with Draco hanging limply in his arms. His world shrank to a pinprick of light, filling with the concentrated force of his rage as he watched his lover being stolen from him. Unmindful of the consequences, he ran toward the flickering green flame, determined to follow before the raging fire turned to orange and yellow once again.

Halfway across the room, a full two seconds before Harry could reach it, the floo connection terminated. Harry ran on, his brain refusing- _refusing_ -to accept the fact that he couldn't follow. From behind him, he heard a desperate, "No!", and then a great, looming shape appeared in front of him, blocking his way into the fireplace.

Strong arms came around him as he crashed into the solid body. Harry, now well beyond his ability to think clearly, tensed his muscles and prepared to throw off the encumbrance, straining to dash forward.

"Harry, Harry," a soothing voice spoke into his ear. It was familiar, but it wasn't Draco. Whimpering softly as the seconds ticked by, adding even more time to his separation from his bondmate, Harry began to struggle anew, inching toward the hot flames. Then suddenly, another body was there, pressing into him from behind and trapping him securely.

Harry moaned as the pain of having Draco ripped from him grew even more unbearable. Soothing hands and voices called to him from far away, but he resisted their attempts at comfort. Finally, a harsh voice penetrated the curtain of grief he had drawn about himself.

"Potter! Snap out of it! You're not helping him by jumping into the fire or whimpering like a lost puppy! Get a hold of yourself!"

From behind him, a softly spoken, "Severus, enough," finally brought him back from the edge of something that had felt suspiciously like insanity. He relaxed his posture, sagging against Remus, whom he now understood to be the one holding him from behind. For his efforts, he was rewarded with a gentle squeeze and more encouraging words.

"That's right, Harry," Remus said, "easy now."

Harry reached up to grab thick handfuls of Severus's robe, and the older man, understanding Harry's need, stepped closer, effectively pinning him between the two older men. Harry let his head drop forward onto Severus's chest. The grief was receding, but Harry was frightened to realize it wasn't being replaced with anything else.

Instead, a disconcerting numbing sensation began in the center of his chest and crept steadily outward to the rest of his body. He began to feel detached from the world around him as his mind shut down.

Even the gentle, unwavering support he sensed from both Severus and Remus failed to evoke a response. He let his eyes come to rest on the far wall and his breathing evened out, becoming deep and slow. Behind him, Remus tensed.

"Harry? Stay with us. We'll get him back. Harry?"

Harry nodded. At least he tried to. But when Remus's voice grew even more concerned, he decided maybe he hadn't made a very convincing effort. He opened his mouth to reassure them both, but found he had little energy to speak. And his mind seemed to be slipping farther away by the minute.

"Merlin damn you, boy," he heard Severus say in his ear. "Pull yourself together."

Harry nodded again, deciding he must have got it right that time, because he heard Severus sigh wearily. "Remus, take him."

Harry was urged to turn and he obeyed, releasing Severus's robe only after his hands were squeezed reassuringly. He allowed himself to be drawn into Remus's embrace, and soon the man's soothing voice and gentle touches found cracks in the wall that had erected itself with such frightening speed around Harry's mind. He sensed some of the numbness fading as Remus held him and rocked him gently. But as it did, the pain rushed back in and Harry moaned pitifully.

Severus shot him a disgusted look over his shoulder. "For God's sake, Potter."

Harry moaned again and clutched the sides of his head. "Hurts," he whispered. And it did-unbearably so. Coupled with his turbulent emotional state, Harry felt utterly lost and alone. His body began to quiver and Remus drew him nearer.

"Harry," Remus whispered in his ear, "how long have you and Draco been bonded?" Harry's eyes were squeezed shut, so he missed the surprised look Severus gave Remus and the expectant one he shot at Harry as he waited for him to answer.

"Two days," Harry croaked weakly.

Remus managed to hide his surprise well, but Severus made no such attempt. "What?" he shouted at Harry, stalking back to him, managing to make even his dressing gown look imposing as he did so. "You two should be in complete isolation! Two days is not enough time…" he trailed off as he caught Remus's eye over Harry's head. Harry missed the exchange.

"Enough time for what?" he mumbled into Remus's chest.

"Never you mind, Harry," Remus spoke gently as he rubbed his hand over Harry's back in slow circles.

"Tell me."

"Not enough time for the bond to cement itself, Potter," Severus spat as he turned to the fireplace and grabbed a handful of floo powder. "How you are even able to separate at all, without keeling over in agonizing pain and suffering a horrible, ugly death, is beyond me."

"I always did manage to surprise you," Harry said, face still buried against Remus's shoulder. He felt Remus shake with a silent chuckle and Severus's voice, when he answered, was shockingly mild.

"That you did," he said.

Severus turned back toward the fireplace and threw the floo powder into the flames. "Hogwarts, Professor Dumbledore," he said in a clear voice.

"Severus?" the Headmaster answered immediately, his disembodied head appearing out of the flames. "What—" his question cut off as he saw Harry and Remus embracing behind his Potions Master. "I'm not sure how Mr. Malfoy will feel about such a development," he said nodding his head at Remus and Harry when Severus looked at him oddly. Glancing back, Severus noticed for the first time that Harry was completely naked, and Remus didn't exactly have a spare item of clothing to offer him. With a huff of frustration, Severus slipped the dressing gown from his shoulders and turned to drape it around Harry. Remus grabbed it and pulled it snug. Severus turned back to the fireplace, deciding that if they survived this, he would punish Potter forever for making him face the Headmaster in nothing but his boxers.

"Albus, something has happened," he began.   
  


* * *

 

 

Draco awoke in agony. His head was pounding and his memory fuzzy. He groaned and even the effort of that small sound was enough to make his stomach roll uncomfortably. He had only ever felt like this once before: after a long night of indulgence where he and Harry had systematically drank their way through the wine cellar belonging to the owner of France's most premier vineyard. The next morning, Draco promised himself that if he was able to make it to the bathroom before throwing up, he would never touch the stuff again.

Of course, that promise had lasted all of a week. Draco adored a good Cabernet.

When he felt brave enough, he opened his eyes. He shut them again almost instantly when he saw the white, institution-like walls surrounding him. Pushing the pain aside, Draco forced his mind to focus and he reached for Harry though their bond. Panic seized him when, at first, he couldn't feel his bondmate's love shining in his mind. Only after several minutes, during which time his nausea increased tenfold as his fear spiraled nearly out of control, was he able to sense Harry. The connection was there, but it was too tenuous and out of reach for Draco's fogged mind to grasp, a side effect of the potion, no doubt.

He turned his thoughts inward, fighting down the fear that was causing his heart to beat erratically and a sickening pain to spread in thick pulses throughout his body. He couldn't prevent a soft moan from escaping, and suddenly a shadow fell over him, blessedly blocking out the blinding light.

"What in Merlin's name did you give him, Mr. Fletcher?"

"Just a sedative," came the defensive reply.

"He looks to be in quite a bit of pain," the first voice said uncertainly.

"Well, that's not my doing!" Fletcher said.

The second voice sighed. "I hated for it to have to come to this, but it's high time that Potter boy take care of what he was born to do. I will not tolerate him running off again."

"I agree," Dung grumbled.

"Yes, I know you do and I appreciate your help. Just as I'm sure you appreciate my looking the other way in regards to your business dealings of this past month."

Dung grumbled again, unintelligibly this time.

"Well, until Potter succeeds, we'll keep his little boyfriend here with us, safe and sound." The last few words sounded decidedly evil to Draco. But despite the agony the situation was causing, he almost felt sorry for the man with the second voice. He didn't think Harry was going to take this very well.

A second shadow joined the first and Draco risked cracking an eye, wanting a look at the mastermind of this half-baked plot. He didn't recognize the older man in the expensive robes, but he was familiar with the Ministry seal displayed proudly upon them.

The fucking Minister of Magic. Some things never change.

"Harry's going to kill you."

The man just smiled at Draco. "We'll see."

Dumbledore had come through immediately, and while Severus explained what had happened, Harry sat at the table, unmoving. He felt cold, despite the jeans and thick sweater Severus had summoned from his room for him. Unwittingly, Severus had accio'd Draco's cashmere sweater instead of Harry's bulky wool one, and the scent of Draco surrounding him was almost too much to bear.   
  


* * *

 

 

Harry tried over and over to get a sense of where Draco was and how he was faring. For an eternity, there was nothing, and Harry was not even aware of the tears that were rolling down his cheeks, until Remus reached over to brush them gently away. When Harry did feel a spark, however, it was nearly worse than the emptiness had been. He reached blindly for Remus's hand, his eyes fixed on the far wall, but unfocused.

"He hurts," Harry whispered and Remus squeezed his hand and stroked the back of it with his long fingers.

"I'm sure he does. Just like you do."

Harry was silent for a long time, but Remus just held his hand, offering his silent support.

"We shouldn't have come back," Harry finally whispered, and his voice had a flat, far-away quality.

Remus closed his eyes briefly. "No," he agreed. "You shouldn't have."

Harry lowered his head onto his folded arms.

"Harry?"

At first, Harry ignored the voice, because frankly he was enjoying his dream too much. He was at the beach with Draco. Their beach. The one they had adopted as their own, out of the thousands of beaches all over the world. Of all of their "homes," it was hands-down Harry's favorite place to stay. A long run along the shore had been followed by a quick dip in the cold water, and now they were sprawled out on the sand, enjoying the sound of the lapping waves, the crying gulls, and the rustling grasses.

Harry turned his head to admire Draco's lean, muscular body. Smiling, Harry reached over and trailed a finger down the center of Draco's chest.

_"Tired?" he asked._

_Draco smiled, but didn't answer. He did however, grab Harry's wandering fingers and slide them lower, until their joined hands slid under the towel that Draco had draped over his hips._

_"What do you think?"_

_Harry smiled and took Draco's thick erection in his hand, beginning a slow, maddening pace that he knew would have his lover begging in under a minute._

"Harry?"

_That damned voice again. Harry continued to ignore it. To his consternation, though, Draco reached down and stilled Harry's movements. Pulling himself up onto his elbows, he squinted out over the sun-dappled water toward the horizon. Piles of dark clouds were building in the distance._

"Storm's coming," he said.

"Harry!"

Harry opened his eyes, taking a deep, gulping breath as he did so. Albus's normally sparkling blue eyes were level with his, and Harry realized with no small amount of surprise that Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of the most famous wizarding school in the world, was kneeling on the floor just so he could look Harry in the eye.

"Hello, sir," Harry said softly.

Albus hesitated for a moment, but never shifted his sad, blue eyes from Harry's dull, green ones. "How do you feel, Harry?"

Anger flared inside him, and some of it must have reached his face, because all of a sudden, Snape's hand was on his shoulder. "Easy, Harry," he said.

Harry gingerly lifted his head from where it had been resting on his arms. He felt Severus's hand tighten imperceptibly as he addressed the Headmaster. "I feel like I'm dying," he admitted hoarsely. "Where is Draco?"

Dumbledore would know, Harry reasoned. He knew everything, and perhaps had even planned this. If so, Harry promised himself that if the old man told the truth, came clean right now, he wouldn't make him suffer…too painfully.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," Dumbledore said, and Harry's hopes sank back into the depths of his battered soul. There was no mistaking the honest pain and regret in the old wizard's raspy voice. "I am working right now to bring him back to you, I promise."

Harry smiled bitterly. "I bet."

"Potter!" Severus snapped, but Dumbledore waved him off.

"It's all right, Severus. Our Harry is extremely distraught right now. I do not take offense."

"I am not YOUR Harry," Harry snarled as he sat up straighter, dislodging the blanket that Remus had placed over his shoulders. Across the room every glass that had been lined up neatly in the immaculate open shelving exploded. All three men took a step back as Harry rose from the chair. "I do not belong to any of you," he spat. "I may be in debt to each of you, but you…do…not…own…me."

A small breeze puffed by Remus's face, but he ignored it, focused as he was on Harry's temper tantrum. But when he felt it again, stronger this time, he grabbed Severus's arm in warning and they both watched in horror as a moving mass of air began to spin around the room, increasing it's speed and strength with each circuit.

"Harry," Remus called through the growing chaos, "control yourself!"

Harry ignored him and the maelstrom grew. Severus inched toward Albus, preparing to grab the old wizard and retreat, when all of a sudden, Harry's focus shifted, and the spinning funnel of energy died.

Both Remus and Severus turned to see what had caught Harry's attention. Percy Weasley's head was sticking out from the fireplace and he was watching the show in slack-jawed awe. Harry pivoted and walked slowly toward him. If it were possible for the disembodied head of a floo caller to turn pale as a ghost, Remus figured Percy accomplished it. The wide-eyed assistant to the Minister watched Harry approach with huge eyes, and even jerked once as though he were considering stepping out of the connection and terminating it. However, when he saw Dumbledore behind Harry, he swallowed heavily and addressed the Headmaster.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir, the Minister has received your urgent call and has prepared a reply." It was unclear whether or not Percy had expected a verbal response to his announcement, but when no one spoke, he pressed on. "Sir, the Minister wishes me to inform you, respectfully sir, that Draco Malfoy has been taken into custody and will remain so until such time as…"

"Return. Him. Now!" Harry shouted and the entire room rattled. Percy squeaked when a pitcher that had been perched atop the mantle fell to the floor next to his head with a crash.

"Harry," Dumbledore intervened. "Let us hear the conditions of Mr. Malfoy's release." Turning to a terrified Percy, he waved for him to continue.

"Um…er…well, that is…" Percy stammered.

"Get on with it, Percy!" Harry growled. "My patience is growing thin."

Percy's eyes narrowed as he looked at Harry. "Until such time that He Who Must Not Be Named has been killed and…." Percy never got a chance to finish as Harry descended upon him with a howl of rage. Percy's floating head disappeared with a high-pitched squeak a mere second before Harry reached it. Harry spun around to face the others, waves of furious power radiating from him.

"Of course," he hissed. "Why did we bother to ask?"

Dumbledore sighed and moved tiredly to sit in one of the chairs surrounding the table. "So many lies…so much distrust," he murmured to himself as he stroked his beard. Severus accepted Remus's fleeting caress across his cheek before joining the Headmaster at the table. "What is our next move?" he asked solemnly.

Harry snorted. "I should think that would be obvious. I kill Voldemort. Now. Today."

"No!" Remus interjected. "You are too weak. Harry, your bond is less than three days old. Theoretically, you shouldn't even be able to tie your shoes or Accio your god-damned lube without Draco plastered to your side."

"I dismantled the wards on Dumbledore's office. That's a hell of a lot more strenuous than fetching lube," Harry yelled.

Remus softened his voice, hoping Harry would do the same. "Draco was standing right next to you when you did that, Harry. Now…" his voice trailed off and suddenly all the fight left Harry.

"Now…we don't know where he is," he finished for Remus.

"Exactly," Severus said.

"Sit down, Harry, please," Dumbledore implored. "I know we can come to a solution if we work together."

_You mean if we work for you_ , Harry thought bitterly. But he obeyed the Headmaster. If nothing else, he would get a few quiet moments to plan while the old man listened to himself talk. Tuning out the others, he reached for Draco again, not expecting an acknowledgement, and so was doubly surprised when he received one.

//Where are you?// Harry asked frantically.

//No idea. Please don't yell, my head's killing me.//

Harry's relief was so acute he felt hot tears surface in his eyes. //Are you all right?// he asked.

Instead of a verbal answer, Harry felt a wave of anguish and longing wash over him. //It hurts so much to be apart from you. Why does it hurt so much?// Draco said.

//Remus says it's the bond. It's too new for us to be separated.//

There was a distinct pause while Draco considered that. //I don't suppose sharing that little fact will help my situation any, so I'm just going to keep my mouth shu—// Draco's voice cut off and his presence in Harry's mind was abruptly banked.

//Draco!// Harry gasped and clenched the cup he was holding until his knuckles turned white. His actions were not lost on the other people around the table. Remus opened his mouth to speak, but Severus lay a restraining hand on his arm, while he watched Harry carefully.

//I'm fine. But Harry, the Minister's here. They're going to give me that potion again, the one that knocks me out. I'm afraid I'm going to lose you again.// Harry cringed at the anxiety in Draco's voice.

//If he touches you, I'll kill him.// Harry promised, sending Draco all the love and support he could manage through their meager connection.

//I already told him that, actually. He didn't seem impressed.//

//I'm going to get you out of there. Soon. I promise.// Harry was unaware his breathing had turned shallow and uneven, or that his vice-like grip on his cup threatened to crush the fragile crockery. In a trance, he watched as Severus painstakingly extracted his fingers from around the cup and Remus tried to sooth his galloping heart. Harry ignored it all, choosing instead to focus on Draco.

//Don't do anything stupid.// Draco said.

//I won't.//

//Merlin, you're a crappy liar.// A shiver of fear floated across the bond. //They're going to force the potion on me. Harry?//

"I'm here, I'm here," Harry gasped out loud, even as the link became muddied and indistinct once more. When it had faded completely, he couldn't stop an anguished sob from escaping as he buried his head in his arms. Remus continued to rub his back and speak soothingly to him, but Severus didn't mince words.

"Well?" he barked, "how is he?"

Dumbledore gave his Potions Master a chastising look, but Harry actually felt absurdly thankful for Severus's no-nonsense attitude. But he wasn't quite sure how to answer the question. How the hell did they think he was?

"The same as me, I guess. Only, they're giving him a potion to keep him sedated, and it…it dampens the bond."

"You see?" Severus hissed. "They have no idea what they are doing? Every time they sedate Draco they will weaken Harry even more. You must tell them about the bond, Albus. They must be reunited."

"I doubt very much I will be believed, Severus. They will only see it as a ploy to gain the upper hand, to remove their leverage. They will not agree."

"You must make them agree," Remus insisted and so it went on and on. Harry watched passively as the other three men argued. After a while, he stopped listening.

They didn't understand, Harry realized, as they tossed their petty comments back and forth across the table. They couldn't feel the blinding, crippling loss he was experiencing. Harry squared his shoulders. He refused to sit here all day while Draco was being abused and neglected. Dumbledore and the others could debate into the next millennium and it would not change the facts.

Harry needed to meet Voldemort.

He needed to defeat him.

He needed Draco back.

Simple, irrefutable logic. And he was supposedly the inexperienced one at the table.

Harry stood abruptly, his chair scraping loudly over the floor as he did so. Dumbledore, Severus and Remus all turned to him expectantly.

"Do you have something to add, Harry?" Dumbledore asked kindly.

_You bet_ , Harry thought. Already, he could feel his power shifting restlessly within his body, demanding he set it free – demanding he fight for what was his.

"No, sir. Not really. I feel really tired, though. Drained. I'm going to go upstairs and rest for a bit," he said.

Three pairs of eyes bore into him and Harry laughed inwardly when he felt Severus trying to push his way into his mind with Occlumency.

_I don't think so, Severus_ , he thought to himself. _I mastered that bag of tricks many years ago_. Deliberately, he wove together various thoughts about resting comfortably in his bed, and pushed them to the front of his mind.

After a moment, Severus sat back in his chair and glanced at the Headmaster with an unreadable expression. Dumbledore watched Harry for another second before nodding once.

Harry forced himself not to hurry from the kitchen. When he reached the stairs that led to his room, he passed them without hesitating, exiting instead through the twelve-foot tall doors that guarded the entrance to Snape Manor. When he reached the immaculately maintained circle of grass that began at the bottom of the stone steps, he disapparated.

In the kitchen, Snape clenched his hands on the table and spoke through pursed lips. "The wards have been breached. He's left the house."

Dumbledore closed his eyes and sighed. "Then there is nothing left to do except wait. And pray."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen  
With Friends Like These…**

  
  
  


 

In Percy Weasley's opinion, he lived a full and satisfying life. His salary was generous, his position coveted, and he never lacked for the company of young, beautiful witches. The general consensus about Percy, however, was not quite so flattering. He was often accused of being in the Minister's pocket, no one – literally, no one – wanted his job, and if Percy kept company with pretty women, people assumed it was simply because he was offering the ladies something besides watered down drinks and a quick, fumbling shag in the back room of his favorite pub.

Assumption can be a dangerous thing.

Several years and dozens of women later, Percy's reputation as an upstanding member of the Weasley clan was little more than a distant memory. Most people shied away from referring to him as Percy Weasley, not wanting such a respected name to be associated with this particular black sheep's moral and ethical shortcomings.

Therefore, over time, he became known as simply 'Weasel.' Not particularly original, everyone agreed, but why fight what was quite obviously a dead-on characterization? There was enough fighting going on elsewhere in the world.

Even Ron had been known to use the nickname, although never in front of his mother.

None of this bothered Percy, however, which was probably the saddest thing of all. And it was in fact this exact train of thought that had him so distracted as he exited the lifts and approached the gates that led to the Atrium. Let them believe what they want, he thought to himself. He was in no mood for Ron's uppity, over-bearing principles today. Percy needed to know what was occurring at Snape Manor, he had promised the Minister a timely report on how Potter had responded to their demands, but Ron had refused to tell him anything when Percy had floo-called him a short while ago.

"Here's the bottom line: I don't trust you, Percy. And even if I did, the fact is I don't know anything. I haven't seen anyone since the meeting last night." Ron's disembodied head frowned at him from the fireplace. "You need to get your priorities straight, brother-mine. If what I've been hearing through the grapevine this morning is true, you've made a grave misstep. I wouldn't want to be in your shoes when Harry finds you."

Percy had snorted. "I'm only concerned for the survival of our world, Ron. Surely you understand that it is past ti—"

"Good-bye, Percy, and good luck," Ron interrupted tiredly. He started to withdraw from the fireplace, but leaned forward again to add, "You'll need it."

That abrupt conversation had occurred less than ten minutes ago. Robbed of any possible inside information from the Order, Percy had toddled off to track down another source of intelligence. Someone must know something, he reasoned.

Crossing the dark, polished wood floor, he approached the golden gates that led to the Atrium, but was stopped dead in his tracks by the sight of Harry Potter, who was currently stepping through the exact gates Percy had been hurrying towards.

His first thought was: Gods, he looks truly awful. Harry's hair was even more mussed than usual, and his clothes were in disarray, as though he had donned them in a hurry. His eyes, large and piercing green, were framed by a ghostly pale face, and as he stepped through the gate, Percy noticed he steadied himself on the ornate grillwork with a trembling hand.

Percy gaped, unable to force even the simplest of phrases past his lips. Icy fear gripped his heart as Harry glanced up and saw him. When a malevolent smile spread across Harry's face, Percy's paralysis finally broke.

"How did you get in here?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "The door."

Percy shook his head. "No, I mean…they had specific orders NOT to admit you."

Harry's smile grew, and Percy felt his knees go weak. "Yes. That's what that man said, as well," Harry said, gesturing behind him. Percy leaned slowly to the right and glanced around Harry to the security stand beyond.

The usual guard, a flighty witch interested more in the latest gossip than the tasks associated with her job, had been given the day off – by his direct order. In her place sat the most trusted member of the Minister's private security staff. Percy had given him one order only, and that was to prevent Harry Potter from entering the Ministry, should, by some chance, he decide to visit.

Now, Percy watched as the most powerful wizard on staff with Internal Security sat cross-legged on the floor playing patty cake with – nobody. Percy gulped and straightened. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted three low-level administrators exit the lifts and approach them, obviously hoping to escape for a late breakfast.

"Hey!" he shouted. "You!" Harry stood passively while Percy waved the three men over with panicky gestures. When he had their attention, Percy yelled, "Quickly, fetch some Aurors. A fugitive has infiltrated the Ministry!" Percy gestured wildly at Harry as he spoke. The tallest of the three men, and obviously the one the others deferred to, hesitated. He glanced from Percy to Harry, and then back again. Harry sighed.

"You heard the man," he said mockingly. "Off with you. Fetch the Aurors. Fetch the whole god damned building if it makes you feel any better." With a casual, barely perceptible flick of his wrist, Harry sent the three men flying backward across the floor to the doors of the lifts, where he deposited them none to gently in an untidy heap.

Harry watched in disgust as the three men untangled themselves and tumbled into an open car, robes flapping out behind them. A wave of dizziness hit him, and a deep pang for Draco followed right on its heels. He sighed heavily and once again reached out to steady himself on the gate's framework. This flash of weakness was not lost on Percy. Grinning, he whipped his wand from his sleeve and pointed it at Harry.

"You should not be here," he snarled.

"No?" Harry asked, looking unconcerned.

"No! _Stupefy!_ " Percy yelled, viciously pleased by the sharp bolt of red light that emerged from the tip of his wand and rushed toward Harry. A split second before the spell reached its intended target, Harry raised his hand and without even a whisper, deflected it to crash in a hiss of sparks on the floor at Percy's feet. Percy yelped and jumped backward. Before he could recover, Harry was pushing wearily off the gate and walking toward him.

_"Expelliarmus,"_ Harry said in a low voice, and Percy's wand ripped itself from his hand and flew into Harry's grasp. Making sure he had Percy's attention, Harry snapped it in half. As he dropped the two broken shards to the floor, he continued to advance on Percy.

"I'd ask how you live with yourself, but I'm afraid I already know the answer," Harry said sadly as he approached. He stopped a few paces away, and even Percy was embarrassed at the revulsion on Harry's face. "Is there no honor left in you?" Harry whispered. He swayed on his feet and closed his eyes against yet another wave of vertigo. His clamoring need for his bondmate was waxing and waning, yet all the while growing constantly stronger. Like the incoming tide, it urged him forward.

Meanwhile, Percy was sizing up the situation. Despite a reputation for being otherwise, he was not stupid. He recognized the need for a change in tactics. He softened both his demeanor and voice, and then cleared his throat

"Harry, I know you're very upset…." Percy held his hands out, hoping to placate the other man until the Aurors arrived. Already winding himself up for a round of diversionary and negotiating tactics, he failed to notice when Harry's eyes snapped open or when he whispered a spell that had Percy's voice cutting off mid-sentence.

"Percy," Harry said as the other man clawed at this throat, trying and failing to draw air into his lungs, "you've never seen me very upset." He watched as Percy's efforts grew more and more frantic, until finally, when it looked as though Percy might actually pass out, he released the spell. Percy fell forward, gasping and grabbing at his chest, willing it to rise and fall as his oxygen deprived body pulled in great lungfuls of air.

"Where is Draco?" Harry asked through clenched teeth, after he had given Percy a moment to recover.

Percy shook his head frantically as he tried to answer. "I don't know," he wheezed, and then screamed shrilly when Harry growled and raised his arm toward him again.

Suddenly, Percy heard a commotion back near the lifts. He nearly sobbed in relief when Harry, also hearing it, lowered his hand back to his side and turned to meet the dozen Aurors as they thundered out of two separate cars and approached Harry and Percy warily.

"Ah, good, Kingsley," Percy gasped loudly, earning an amused look from Harry and a rather annoyed one from the Ministry's Lead Auror.

Kingsley Shaklebolt stepped forward, leading a group of obviously hastily gathered Aurors, some quite young and obviously newly promoted. Clearly, the most experienced of the ranks were on assignment. Harry appraised the group quickly, and dismissed it as a non-threat. Kingsley, however, would be another matter.

Kingsley appeared to be doing some evaluating of his own. He met Harry's eyes for several moments, and then gave an almost imperceptible nod before glancing around the rest of the Atrium. Waving off the group behind him, he rounded on Percy.

"Explain yourself, Weasel. I was told there was a fugitive resisting arrest up here or some such nonsense. And with the exception of the tongue-lashing you're going to get for this stunt, I see nothing remotely threatening here."

Harry didn't even bother to hide his amusement when Percy's eyes bulged from their sockets. "Nothing threatening?" he echoed in a high voice. A poorly stifled giggle drifted forward from the Aurors, and Percy flushed bright red.

"Auror Shaklebolt, I insist you arrest this man at once. He has assaulted both myself and the poor gentleman handling the security desk and has made several threats against…against myself and…and the Minister!" Percy was actually bouncing on his toes in pure indignation. Harry sighed and crossed his arms in front of him. The group of Aurors shifted restlessly at his movement, and Harry rolled his eyes.

Kingsley was biting his lip. "Is that true, Harry?" he asked in a gruff voice.

Harry closed his eyes again, battling his temper. He forced himself to be patient – for a short while longer. Already he could feel a slight pull in the bond that told him Draco was near, unconscious perhaps, but close. He mustered every ounce of self control and answered Kingsley. "Some of it. I didn't threaten the Minister." _Yet_.

Kingsley grunted and darted Percy a look. His mouth twitched. "But you threatened Weasel?"

"It's Mr. Weasley!" Percy hissed. Both Harry and Kingsley ignored him.

Harry shrugged. "Maybe a little."

"See? See? I told you!" Percy whooped with glee. Harry felt his patience begin to unravel. He dropped his hands to his hips and pulled himself straight.

"My fight's not with you, Kingsley," Harry said with deadly calm. "I've just come for Draco."

There was a collective gasp from the group of Aurors and Harry just barely resisted rolling his eyes again. Kingsley had enjoyed baiting Percy, but at Harry's words, all traces of humor evaporated from his expression. "So it's true, then?"

Harry nodded.

Percy sensed a shift in the balance of power, and it most clearly wasn't in his favor. In desperation, he shoved past Kingsley and descended on a young female Auror. "For Merlin's sake," he spat in her face, "do you need an engraved invitation? Stun him!"

The young witch gasped, but didn't raise her wand. The group became decidedly uneasy, darting looks between Harry, who looked both sickly and bored all at the same time, and Kingsley, whose face was starting to look thunderous in the wake of Percy's outburst.

"Shut up, Weasel!" Kingsley shouted. Percy ceased his shouting, but he turned back to Kingsley and began pushing his way back through the group to the Lead Auror's side. Before he could deliver even more childish insults, however, Harry held up a hand. Percy squealed and jumped away, much to the amusement of the group.

"I'll go through you, if I have to, Kingsley," Harry said in such a quiet voice, the whole group fell silent at once, straining to hear his words. "I don't want to. But I will." Harry took a deep, shuddering breath and allowed some of the intensity of his feelings to surface in his eyes. He took a step forward, unwilling to wait any longer.

One Auror, an older man Harry didn't recognize, raised his wand almost reflexively when Harry moved. Immediately, Kingsley's hand was on the man's arm, forcing it back to his side. "That won't be necessary, Harry. You're free to pass." Kingsley made a show of stepping aside and in complete support of their leader, the group parted, leaving a clear path all the way across the floor to the lifts.

While Percy stood there slack-jawed, and at a complete loss as to how he could salvage the situation, Harry approached Kingsley.

"Thank you," he said, holding out a trembling hand.

Kingsley grasped it in his warm one, shocked at how cold Harry's skin felt. "You're welcome, Harry. Good luck finding him."

Harry nodded and turned toward the lifts, but Kingsley reached out and snagged a handful of his sweater at the last moment. "Aren't you forgetting something, Harry?"

Harry forced his mind to shift gears, away from Draco and back to the situation at hand. After a moment, an evil smirk replaced his puzzled frown. "Of course," he said, "how silly of me."

He reached out toward Percy and grabbed a handful of his robes. Percy squeaked again and tried to plant his feet but they slipped quite easily over the polished wood as Harry dragged him forward. "Percy?"

Percy tried to speak, but when squeaks were all he managed, Harry huffed in frustration. "Just nod your head," he coaxed. Percy's head bobbed up and down wildly. Harry, apparently satisfied, continued. "Percy, stay right here. Don't move. Don't go anywhere. Don't talk to anyone. I mean it. It would break Molly's heart if I had to kill you, regardless of what foul things you've done, and I've no wish to cause her any additional pain. Your behavior today will go far enough in that regard. Stay. Here." Harry pointed at the floor and Percy, still nodding furiously, hastened to move to that exact spot. "I'll deal with you later." Harry said as he turned away again.

Kingsley hid a smile behind his hand and signaled for three of his Aurors to stand watch over Percy. Just in case, he thought. The extra eyes wouldn't hurt and his young ones never got to have any fun these days – the world was too full of darkness and he was always forced to throw them into it sooner than he would have liked. Therefore, he wasn't surprised when there was some jostling for the right to guard the Weasel.

He fell into step beside Harry as they walked toward the lifts. "Good idea, keeping an eye on him," Kingsley said. "But I was actually referring to your wand. I don't see it. I assumed Weasel had it."

Harry stopped by the first lift and jabbed the button to bring the car. He swallowed against a sudden feeling of nausea and leaned forward to rest his head on the cool metal of the door. The urge to find Draco, to see him, to touch him, was growing stronger by the second. He prayed for the strength to hold his temper with the Minister. Regardless of what he told Percy, he had no desire to kill anyone today. Although he would, and without a second thought, if he didn't get some cooperation.

"Harry?"

Harry took a shaky breath and turned to face the concerned Auror. "I'm fine, Kingsley. Oh, my wand. I…er…I left without it," Harry said with an embarrassed shrug. "I was in a hurry," he explained, missing the look of shock on Kingsley's face when he turned to impatiently check the car's progress. Harry heard a quiet shuffling and glanced over his shoulder. Kingsley was still standing directly behind him, but the other Aurors had backed all the way across the narrow hall and were now pressed against the opposite wall. Harry smiled at them, and a few smiled nervously back. He didn't fight the urge to roll his eyes this time.

The lift doors opened and Harry stepped through, jabbing at the button that would take him to the Minister's floor. With Kingsley guarding Percy, it was unlikely that word of his arrival would reach the Minister before he did, Harry thought. The element of surprise was on his side, but he was ready for whatever token resistance he might encounter. As it turned out, though, no one even gave him a second look as he made his way through the maze of departments and offices.

As he approached the Minister's suite of offices, a growing buzzing in the bond alerted Harry that Draco was swimming toward consciousness. He picked up his pace, breaking into a slow jog while he mentally urged his lover to wakefulness. Draco responded dully at first, but brightened when Harry showed him in brief, bright flashes how close he was to finding him.

//I feel like a damsel in distress.// Draco admitted, embarrassment leaking though his sarcasm.

//You dress like one too – mostly. Although I suppose I shouldn't talk, all decked out in cashmere like this.//

//You don't own any cashmere.// Draco responded suspiciously.

//You're right, I don't.//

//Potter, I swear to you – if you so much as singe that sweater….//

//Gotta go now. Have to talk to the Minister.// Harry muted the connection, but kept it open just enough to enjoy Draco's annoyed ramblings. He found them comforting, and having Draco's bright presence in his mind boosted his strength and endurance to new levels.

He smiled to himself as he pushed though the final set of doors and entered the Minister's private suite of rooms. Percy's desk sat to the side, obviously strategically placed so that he could prevent any unwanted visitors from reaching the Minister. The image of Percy intimidating anyone was so utterly absurd that Harry couldn't help a bark of laughter. He stepped around the desk and crossed through the arched entryway.

Just as he entered the plushly carpeted room, he heard a surprised voice yell, _"Stupefy,"_ and a flash of red lightning zipped toward him. Harry deflected the spell easily, directing it to rebound to the opposite wall where it scorched the plaster with its fiery red sparks.

"Well, that lacked originality," Harry said calmly as he turned to face the Minister of Magic. He calmly raised his hand and whispered a spell under his breath. While the portly Minister remained frozen, still in shock over the deflected stunning spell, Harry set his wand ablaze.

It went up like a piece of dry kindling in a forest fire, literally exploding in the Minister's hand, and he yelped like a kicked puppy as he tossed the charred wood away. Harry advanced on the man. "Now," he began.

_"Everte Statum,"_ the Minister yelled and Harry felt himself being propelled backwards into the wall. He gave a sharp grunt of pain on impact, and Draco's worried voice floated over the bond.

//Are you all right?//

//Fine.// Harry grumbled as he struggled to his feet. "I'm impressed," he said to the Minister who was grinning maliciously.

"What did you think, boy? I'd be defenseless without my wand?" the Minister seethed.

"Yes," Harry admitted.

"It takes great power and cunning to become the Minister of Magic, boy."

Harry snorted. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. Since when?"

The Minister gave an enraged growl and flung his arm toward Harry again, throwing another hex. As it flew from his fingers, Harry dodged to the left, his Seeker reflexes giving him the speed and agility to roll away and come to his feet quickly.

"Enough," he said quietly as he straightened. Without so much as a twitch of his hand, the Minister's voice was cut off before he could utter his next spell. Harry watched the man turn purple with anger when he realized he was mute, unable to even whisper. His smile returning, Harry used a small burst of magic to throw him against the wall and pin him there.

The Minister tracked Harry's approach; there was little else he could do as Harry's magic lay over him like a heavy blanket, barely leaving him able to draw breath into his lungs.

"As I was saying," Harry ground out through clenched teeth. "Power you may have, but I would hardly call you cunning. Did you hatch this addled, astigmatic scheme all by yourself, because let me be honest, _sir_ – Mountain Trolls could have done better."

Harry stopped in front of the Minister and tried desperately to get a handle on his temper. He could feel his control slipping dangerously and without Draco to help him balance his anger, he knew it was only a matter of time before he did this objectionable, offensive man some serious harm.

"Did you think," Harry continued, his calm voice masking his inner turmoil, "that I would simply rush off to do your bidding? That I would ignore the fact that you had _taken something from me?_ " Harry's voice rose dangerously and the tiniest whimper escaped the other man's throat. "Do not _ever_ presume to tell me my responsibilities, you worthless bastard."

Perhaps it was the righteous anger and conviction in Harry's eyes. Or – perhaps it was the decreasing flow of oxygen to his brain. Regardless of the root cause, the Minister of Magic began to see that perhaps he _had_ confused power with intelligence. In hindsight, it was possible that he hadn't examined this plan from every angle and explored every possible outcome. Unfortunately, it was about to cost him his life.

_I was only trying to help_ , he thought to say, but was absurdly glad a moment later that he hadn't, or couldn't, because one glance at Harry proved the boy was on the knife-edge and close to losing his temper. He watched as Harry visibly attempted to calm himself, closing his eyes and taking several deep breathes, before once again pinning the Minister with a deadly glare.

When Harry raised a hand from his side, the Minister felt his insides clench with fear and his stomach turn over in a sickening roll. Expecting the Cruciatus at best and a vengeful _Avada Kedavra_ at worst, he was taken by complete surprise when all Harry said was, _"Legilimens."_ Somehow, though, the invasion of his thoughts was almost worse. Helpless against the mental assault, the Minister could only squeeze his eyes shut and hope the boy found what he was looking for quickly. He had an inkling of what it might be.

A moment later, he felt the restraining weight drop from his body and he slid to the floor with a heavy thump. He kept his eyes closed, willing the boy to leave now that he had obtained what he had come for. An entire minute slowly ticked by, and the only sound that broke the heavy silence was the Minister's own ragged breathing. Finally, after another full minute had passed, he sighed in relief. Apparently, his punishment was over. Harry now knew exactly where Malfoy was and he had gone to retrieve him. He was safe.

When he opened his eyes and saw Harry squatting next to him, a mere foot away, he actually shrieked.

"I'd hardly call your current position 'safe,' sir. Don't think I won't use what I just plucked from your mind if the need arises." The Minister paled, realizing the boy was still in his head, still reading his thoughts. After a moment, Harry continued. "You have grossly abused your position, and not just this once. I'm sure I've just scratched the surface of your malevolence; your mind is a veritable quagmire of shit. It is unbelievable the things you've gotten away with. And now I know a good many of them. I could ruin you without lifting a finger. A few well-placed words to The Daily Prophet is all it would take, and the fallout would leave you more beaten and bloody than any physical torture I could inflict upon you now – as tempting as that may be," Harry growled. "And I'm afraid we don't have the time right now for that anyway," he said as he rose to his feet, "I have something I need to do."

The Minister watched with wide eyes as Harry casually brushed his jeans free of dust and then spun on his heel and stalked away.

Draco felt his magic returning to him as the lingering muzziness of the sedative potion finally dissipated. With a groan, he planted his feet on the floor and pushed, levering himself up the wall to a standing position. He'd be damned if he was going to be slumped on the floor like some helpless maiden when Harry got there. He wrapped his arms around his naked torso, unable to shake the near permanent chill he had felt since waking up the first time in this cell. They hadn't even offered him a shirt, Draco thought with a touch of disgust. Heathens.

//I'm coming now.// Harry's voice ran like warm honey through his mind and Draco felt a surge of euphoria at this terse announcement.

//What took you so long?//

//You're awfully whiny. You must be feeling better.//

//Shut it, Potter. And hurry up.// Because I feel like I'm dying without you, Draco finished to himself. Harry heard anyway.

//Me too.//

Draco snorted and leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes against the agonizing pull in his gut. As Harry neared, it grew in intensity until Draco was close to moaning aloud in pain.

//I know. I hurt too. I'm almost there.//

Draco nodded, a stupid gesture, he realized, since Harry couldn't see him, but it was all he was capable of right then. The tension grew until Draco was a hair's-breadth away from going through the locked door, by whatever means necessary, to get to Harry.

Suddenly, the door was thrown open and Harry was there. Draco pushed off from the wall just as Harry entered the room and in three steps they were wrapped around each other.

Sweet completion.

For Harry, everything else fell away. The pain, the need, the anger. The lingering surprise over the 'defection' of the Aurors. The sickening disgust over the Minister's manipulations. All that was left was the man in his arms and a frustrating inability to climb under that man's skin and stay there forever.

Draco trembled against him, and Harry pulled him even closer, feeling he must be crushing him by this point, but Draco didn't so much as give a grunt of complaint. They stayed that way for several minutes, enjoying the renewed closeness and the contented humming of the bond, until Harry turned his mouth into Draco's neck.

"Don't ever do something stupid like that again," he whispered. There was no need to explain the statement, Draco knew he had made a serious mistake. Several actually. He would not trust so easily in the future. Truthfully, he wasn't sure he would be able to trust anyone besides Harry ever again. The whole damned situation, this whole damned world, reeked of corruption, hate, and deception, and Draco had lived without those things for far too long to tolerate them now.

"I want to go home," he breathed into Harry's shoulder in an uncharacteristic show of weakness.

Harry's arms rubbed up and down the cool skin of Draco's back. "Me too," he whispered. He sighed, and Draco relished the warm rush of air along the sensitive skin of his throat. "But I can't yet," he added.

Draco peeled himself away from his lover just enough so that he could slip his arms between them. He slid his hands up the soft material of Harry's sweater before cupping Harry's cheeks in his palms. "I know," he said, and although his voice held a hint of resignation, it was surprisingly empty of bitterness. Harry loved him all the more for that. He wasn't sure he would be able to stand any stain of resentment between them.

Draco leaned in, brushing his lips over Harry's. Their desire sparked and Harry moaned softly, pushing past Draco's chapped lips with this tongue. Draco's hands slipped up into Harry's hair, clutching thick handfuls of the glossy black mane while they took turns devouring each other. Before long, Harry was arching suggestively against Draco's body, and with a groan, Draco pulled away.

"Not here," he panted.

"Why not?" Harry groaned, trying to reattach himself where ever Draco would let him. He clamped down on Draco's throat with his teeth, not biting so much as claiming the spot. He laughed softly and twirled his tongue around the smooth, captured skin when Draco gave a loud gasp.

"AHH! Because, you…you idiot…I'm not letting you roll around on this floor with that sweater on. Oh fuck, Harry," Draco panted as Harry began lapping at the skin behind his ear.

"Mmmm," Harry replied and then reluctantly disentangled himself and stepped back. "Fine. Let's go," he said breathlessly and Draco, not trusting his voice, nodded.

Harry reached behind him and pulled Draco's wand from his back pocket. "Here," he said. "I found it in the Minister's office."

Draco gratefully accepted it, feeling relieved, and wasn't surprised to notice his unflappable control returning. The feel of his wand in his hand always did that; he had never mastered wandless magic to the degree Harry had. "Thanks. That bastard, Dung, took it off me."

Harry's eyes narrowed to thin slits. "I want to kill him."

"Well here's your chance, boy," a loud voice thundered. Draco and Harry spun around. Fletcher stood in the doorway, flanked by two other burly wizards. All three had their wands brandished, and before Draco could even adequately assess the danger, they shouted a curse in perfect unison.

As Draco watched in horror, a putrid orange light spilled from the tips of their wands and rushed toward Harry.   
  
  


**A/N:** _Everte Statum:_ A curse often used in dueling – it sends the opponent flying – this is the spell Lockhart used in his dueling class in the movie "The Chamber of Secrets."


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen  
An Unwitting Betrayal**

  
  
  


 

Harry knew what was going to happen a split second before it did, but in the end, he was too slow to prevent it. As the light from the three men's combined curse rushed toward him, he detected a flash of movement from the corner of his eye. As if in the grip of a nightmare, he watched, horrified, as Draco threw himself toward the oncoming curse, taking it full force in the chest.

//NO!// Harry screamed in his mind as Draco was flung backwards. Harry caught him in his arms, but the power of the curse had them both tumbling to the ground, Draco unconscious and Harry scrambling in panic to revive him. He spared only a moment, enough to time to reassure himself that Draco was breathing, albeit shallowly, before stumbling to his feet and whipping around to the door.

Fear and rage raced through him, and without a second thought, he struck out. His magic poured from him in two whip-like strands, displacing the air and making it ripple as it shot toward the trio. When they connected with their targets, the two men to either side of Fletcher disappeared into thin air, their wands clattering to the floor as they popped out of existence. Dung remained untouched however. He darted a look to his left and right, then looked nervously back at Harry.

"What did you do to them?" he barked, making an attempt to cover his fear with bravado.

Harry was tempted to send Dung away as well, but he was not so far gone in his panic that he followed through with his wish. He needed to know exactly what had been done to Draco. Then he would banish the bastard to hell.

"I sent them away," Harry answered, using every trick he knew to keep his voice steady and his emotions under control. Already, he could sense Draco slipping farther away, taking Harry's power and strength with him. "And I will do the same to you if you don't tell me what spell you just used."

"Sent them where?"

"TELL ME!" Harry roared. He made a barely perceptible gesture with his hand and Dung went white and dropped to his knees. He tried to speak, but all that emerged from his mouth were small, pitiful whimpers as pain wracked his body. Harry lifted the curse and Dung fell forward onto his hands, panting heavily. As surreptitiously as he could, Harry backed up until he had a solid wall at his back. His strength was flagging quickly, and he didn't want Dung to see how close he was to falling over.

"That was just a taste, Fletcher. Don't make me use the real thing on you." Harry took a deep breath, willing the room to stop its incessant spinning. "What curse did you use?"

Dung finally pulled himself up and sat back on his heels, wheezing. He turned hateful eyes to Harry, and snarled at him, "You think you're so special. You're nothing but a coward!"

Harry didn't even blink, nor did he hesitate.

_"Crucio."_

Fletcher flopped back to the floor, screaming. He bit his tongue almost immediately, and soon his screams evolved into bloody gurgles as he thrashed and writhed. It was this scene that met Severus, Remus and Dumbledore when they appeared at the doorway to the holding cell: Fletcher suffering under the Cruciatus, Harry standing indifferently above him, and Draco unconscious near his feet.

Dumbledore stepped forward and lifted the Unforgivable. Harry blinked and appeared to come back to himself. He turned anguished, wild eyes to Severus and suddenly his legs gave out, causing him to slump down the wall and land on the floor with a thud. While Dumbledore bent to inspect Fletcher, Remus pushed passed Severus and rushed to Harry.

"Harry," he said, gripping him firmly by the shoulders. "Are you all right?"

Harry didn't answer. He pushed Remus away and crawled to Draco. Biting back a sob, he gently lifted Draco's shoulders from the floor and slid beneath him, placing his lover's head gently in his lap. "Draco?" he whispered hoarsely. He reached through the bond, but Draco's presence kept sliding away. With trembling hands, he gently pushed the hair from Draco's face, revealing gray and lifeless skin. "Draco?"

Remus cringed when Harry's voice broke, so he slid up behind him, providing what comfort he could. When he heard Albus ennervate Fletcher, he glanced over, only to see the Headmaster with the point of his wand stuck deep into the fleshy skin of Dung's neck. Fletcher was slowly backing away, but Albus was matching him step for step. Inevitably, Dung's back hit a wall, but Dumbledore didn't stop his advance until his wand was once again poking the other main painfully in the neck.

"Mundungus – I am very, very disappointed in you," Albus said quietly, and both Severus and Remus unconsciously gave a sigh of relief that it was not either of them on the receiving end of the Headmaster's anger. Or his wand.

"Albus, I was simply trying—"

"Silence," Albus barked. Fletcher clamped his mouth shut so quickly, his teeth clacked together, and a low growl emerged from his throat. He was growing tired of being treated like an errant schoolboy.

"Someone had to do something," he spit out. "You certainly weren't getting the job done. How many more were you going to let die before you ended Mr. Potter's little vacation? Well, Albus?"

Remus glanced back at Harry, both curious and fearful about how he was reacting to what was being said. His wariness became concern when he saw that Harry didn't even appear to be listening to the conversation. He was rocking Draco almost imperceptibly back and forth, and his eyes were staring blankly ahead. Concern grew to trepidation, and Remus signaled Severus over.

The Potions Master, while enjoying sneering at Fletcher over the Headmaster's shoulder, was well aware that Albus had things well in hand. He was at Remus's side in an instant, his eyes questioning.

"Harry," was all Remus said in explanation.

It only took one look at Harry and another at Draco's pale form to convince Severus what little time they had was running out. "Albus," he called over his shoulder, "Hurry!" He took Harry's chin in two of his fingers and turned his head until they were facing each other. Harry continued to stare through Severus as though he weren't even there. Severus pressed his lips together, not bothering to mask his growing frustration. "Harry!" he said sharply, trying to pull the young man from his stupor. When Harry didn't respond, and in fact, seemed to sink even further into his own personal oblivion, Severus growled and scooped Draco up in his arms. Immediately, Harry gave a small cry of distress and tried to grab him back. Severus pushed him away with a snarl.

"Pull yourself together, Potter. Remus – help him. We need to get somewhere where I can examine Draco more thoroughly." Remus nodded and pulled an ever-weakening Harry to his feet. They shuffled past Albus, who was still holding Mundungus at wand point.

"We need to know what he used," Severus stated as he brushed by the Headmaster and Albus nodded.

"I will discover what spell was used, Severus. Now, get the boys to safety. You know where to go. I will deal with this." Severus nodded and left, making room for Remus to follow him through the door. As Remus slid by Fletcher, the filthy man reached out and took a firm hold of Harry's sleeve, jarring Remus, who was supporting Harry as he walked.

"What did you do to them?" Fletcher hissed.

Remus was shocked when Harry responded by turning his head slowly until he met Fletcher's eyes. "I sent them away," he repeated. "Someplace…else." His eyes lost their vague, slightly out-of-focus stare and he fixed Dung with an angry, intense glare. "I'll be sending you to join them. Forever."

Remus was relatively sure Harry meant that as a promise. There was no indignant anger behind his remark, nor was their any desperation. Harry had made the statement with the same blandness and surety one would use to comment on the weather.

There would be foul weather where Harry was sending Fletcher, of that Remus was sure.

"Come on, Harry," he coaxed, pulling Harry past a stunned Mundungus, out into the corridor and toward the lifts.

Albus turned back to Fletcher. "Now, Mundungus," he said. "Don't make me ask twice. I won't let you off as easily as Harry would have, with a simple Crucio. I have a special hell reserved for you, my friend, but no more talk about that now." Albus's normally twinkly blue eyes narrowed into slits as Dung paled even further. "You will tell me the curse you used to incapacitate Mr. Malfoy and you will tell me now, swiftly, and with as little commentary as possible, because, quite frankly, just being this close to you is causing my stomach to turn. How could you, Dung? How could you?" These last questions, delivered with resigned sadness and disappointment, were the last one's Remus heard before the doors to the lift closed behind him.

Harry was drifting. The peripheral goings-on around him faded farther and farther into the background with each passing second. On the surface he responded, if a little groggily, to Remus's commands. Walk, stop. Walk, stop. But, very little of his brain was currently being dedicated to these things. The truth was, he could feel Draco slipping away from him, succumbing to whatever foul curse Dung had used, and he let himself be pulled along as well, not even bothering to fight the downward spiral toward eternal darkness. If he were to be honest with himself, he would say he had little fight left in him, and definitely not enough to make a difference one way or the other in this case. If Draco died, he would too. Harry was more than simply resigned to this fact, he actually embraced it.

So when he found himself once more on the beach with Draco, watching the approaching storm, he didn't question it overmuch. He was only mildly curious about the change of scene, but Draco seemed to sense that.

"What are you thinking?"

Harry cocked his head to the side. "I was wondering if this was real?"

Draco smiled. "Do you want it to be?" He tilted his face toward the sky, enjoying the last few rays of sunlight. Soon they would be gone, obscured behind the approaching clouds.

"I don't know," Harry answered, fidgeting with the towel. He sighed as he looked out over the water. "That's some storm."

"Yes. It will be impressive."

Harry frowned at the dark thunderheads. "I think we should leave."

Draco titled his face back toward Harry. "Are you sure about that?"

Harry frowned at Draco's response. The last of the sun disappeared and a cool breeze blew up from the water, raising goose bumps on Harry's skin. He sat up and rubbed his arms briskly against the encroaching chill. Flickering yellow light began to flash in the building clouds over the sea. Harry reached out for Draco, wanting to tell him they needed to leave – needed to escape before the storm broke.

But Draco was gone.   
  


* * *

 

 

Percy was very close to losing his temper. As if the initial humiliation with Potter hadn't been enough, he then had to endure curious looks from Dumbledore as well as Professors Snape and Lupin as they had entered the Ministry nearly thirty minutes ago. He doubted it had escaped their notice (Snape's sneer proved that) that he was surrounded by Aurors and that their position indicated, rather unsubtly, that the extra attention was not something he coveted.

There was a disturbance among the Aurors as a small woman muscled her way through their tight circle, and a moment later Percy felt a tiny hand on his hip. "Percy? Are you all right?"

Percy sighed and turned to his frequent lover and occasional girlfriend, Alexandra Matason. "They let you through?" he groused, "You'd better hope you can get back out."

"I told them they were letting me through to make sure you were all right, or I was going straight to the Minister," she declared as she brushed invisible lint from his shirt. He stilled her hand.

"Stop that, you're wrinkling it.

Alexandra smiled and linked her hands around his neck. "I'm gonna make it much wrinklier later," she crooned in his ear.

Percy lurched back and held Alex off with two hands. "Wrinklier is not a word, Alex."

Alex pouted but didn't pursue Percy across his small circle of space. "What's going on, baby?"

Percy opened his mouth, perversely looking forward to telling the small blond to mind her own business when the lift directly opposite him opened and the bane of his existence stumbled out, with the rest of his 'favorite' people in tow. Percy rolled his eyes. It was official – he was having a really bad day.

Snape was carrying Malfoy, who looked as close to death as he had ever see a person look, and Lupin was supporting Potter, who didn't look as though he would have been able to go anywhere under his own power even had he wanted to. As it was, he appeared completely dazed and unaware of his surroundings. Percy thought they looked horrible, and, with a surge of vindictiveness, hoped they felt just as bad.

"They look terrible," Alex said, mimicking his thoughts.

"Who cares?" Percy retorted. Anyway, it didn't seem that Potter had the wherewithal to hold Percy there any longer, so he was leaving. Immediately. He needed a stiff drink and some cheap entertainment to take his mind off this train wreck of a day. Percy darted a glance at Alex, and weighed the option of taking her along. She asked an annoying number of questions, but was always a guaranteed good time.

Percy was in desperate need of a sure thing.

"What's going on Percy? Is that Harry Potter? And Draco Malfoy? What happened to them?"

Percy rolled his eyes. It was starting already. If he was going to put up with this all night, there had better be a reward at the end. Preferably, the long-legged blond variety. "Come on," he said, taking her by the arm and steering her to follow the rag-tag group as they disappeared through the golden gate and into the Atrium. "I'll tell you all about it over a Firewhiskey. Or two," he grumbled.

Alex giggled as he led her through the gate and into the Atrium, staying well back from Potter and his gang. He steered Alex to the first floo, cutting directly to the front of the line. No one seemed to mind; they were all watching Potter.

"Shouldn't you check in before you leave?" Alex asked as he tossed the floo powder into the flames.

"Fuck that," Percy murmured before giving Alex a hard shove through the green flames. He followed her a moment later, and the last thing he heard as he went through was Snape growling out a floo destination: "Godric's Hollow."   
  


* * *

 

 

When Severus stepped out of the floo at Godric's Hollow, he didn't even hesitate before striding across the room to the oversized couch and lowering Draco gently onto it. He heard Remus and Harry enter behind him, but he ignored them in favor of examining Draco more closely. He would have to trust in Remus to take care of Harry.

Severus cast a hasty diagnostic spell over Draco, but it revealed little. It was truly ironic, he thought, that the master healer among them would be the one who required the most intensive healing. Draco was breathing, but he could see each breath he took was more labored than the last. Clearly, Draco was fighting a losing battle.

He lowered his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, praying for some inspiration, some clue for where to begin, but no viable ideas came to him. They would have to wait for Dumbledore and hope he was able to wrestle the countercurse from Mundungus.

Severus knew Draco's death would have severe repercussions for Harry. The bond was young, this was true, but it was also one of the strongest and most unusual that Severus had ever come across, and there was no telling what would happen if Draco succumbed to the curse.

He could take an educated guess, however, and the outcome was dire indeed.

From behind him, he could hear Remus trying to rouse Harry from his stupor, and obviously not having much success. He rose from his crouch and walked to the large wingchair where Remus was rubbing Harry's hands briskly.

"Harry?" Remus said, as he attempted to coax some response from the young man. "Harry! You have to come out of it. Draco needs you. Damn it, Harry! Snap out of it!" Remus finally fell silent, letting his head drop between his shoulders in defeat. Severus placed a gentle hand on his hair, giving in to the urge to touch his bondmate.

"Leave it, Remus. We can do no more now. We will have to wait for Dumbledore."

He heard Remus give a deep sigh, and he made a move to stand. He faltered slightly as he rose and Severus was there to steady him. When Remus gained his feet, Severus turned him into his arms, pulling him into a tight embrace. They didn't speak, simply offered and accepted the comfort they needed so desperately from each other.

"Severus…." Remus began, and Severus shushed him with a long finger against his lips.

"I know," he replied. //I know. It's unfair. It's not right. We owe them so much more than the hand they've been dealt. Where did we go wrong in our responsibilities?//

"Yes," Remus whispered. "You understand."

"I do."

"If we come through this—"

"I agree. We will go." Severus folded Remus back into his arms and buried his face in the other man's graying brown hair.

"It sounds like paradise, doesn't it?" Remus asked, and Severus could hear the small smile in his voice.

"Yes, it does."   
  


* * *

 

 

Alexandra signaled for another Firewhiskey and slipped it in front of her companion. Percy never even noticed; he was too busy gesticulating wildly, retelling yet again the story of his late morning run-in with the Aurors. As the day had worn to afternoon, and the whiskey flowed like water, the story had evolved into a rendition of how Percy had stood fast against Potter and the Aurors, stepping aside only when it looked like true violence would erupt, thereby endangering innocent bystanders.

Alex rolled her eyes as Percy continued to spill his woes. There were some days she wondered if putting up with Percy was worth the measly amount of information the pathetic little worm actually possessed. More often than not, he was left completely in the dark. No doubt the Minister suspected he couldn't be trusted. However, her Master was adamant, reminding her again and again, sometimes rather harshly, that someday her liaison with the Weasel would pay off.

Today was her day. Pay dirt.

She watched as Percy downed his fifth shot of whiskey. As he set the empty glass on the bar, he swayed in his chair and blinked owlishly at his reflection in the mirror that was set into the wall behind the neatly arranged bottles of liquor.

"I think I'm drunk," he told his reflection.

Alex just smiled back and sent up a quick prayer that he would excuse himself soon. She figured that time couldn't be too long in coming. Only very rarely had Percy surprised her; most of the time he was as predictable as sunshine in the desert. Percy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He then began to carefully extract himself from his barstool.

"I'll be right back, love," he slurred as he stumbled past in the direction of the bathroom. "Don't think I'm not coming back," he called out as he staggered past.

"Hope springs eternal," Alex muttered into her wine. When she was positive the inebriated idiot was gone, she slid from her chair, paid the bill, and slipped out into the bright afternoon sun. It was safe. Percy wouldn't remember anything, and would possibly even pass out in the loo. It would be easy enough to claim that they had quarreled and she had gone home. Merlin willing, she would be able to break it off with the bastard anyway. The information she had could very well end the war. And it hadn't been gained in the dead of night, whispered from one dark figure to another in an abandoned alley. No. It had been shouted in the bright light of the day – for anyone to hear. Anyone who cared to listen.

Alex found it ironic.

"Godric's Hollow, Master."

"You are sure, Alexandra?"

"I am. Weasel swears that's what Snape said."

"And Potter?"

"Dazed. Barely able to walk."

"Why?"

"No one knows. But there are rumors. Something about Draco Malfoy."

Alex waited, eyes glued to the ground. It was quite possible, probable even, she would be punished for this one missing piece of information. The silence stretched, and she mentally prepared her body for the pain of the Cruciatus.

It never came.

"Excellent. You have pleased me, Alexandra. I believe…I know…this is an opportunity not to be wasted. It is time to eliminate Potter – permanently. Godric's Hollow. How fitting."

"You know this place, Master?"

"Oh yes, Alexandra. I've been there before."   
  


* * *

 

 

The flames of the fire turned green, and Remus leaped from the couch, meeting Dumbledore as soon as he stepped from the fireplace. "Albus?" he asked, needing the Headmaster's answer immediately, and yet fearing it at the same time. He dreaded to think of what would happen if Draco died.

"I have the information we need. However, I'm not exactly sure what to do with it." Dumbledore crossed the room as he spoke, and his last words to Remus were spoken while standing over Draco's limp form. He bowed his head, examining Draco critically over the rims of his spectacles, before turning and glancing at Harry, who was currently huddled in a chair, staring out across the room. He gave no indication he had noticed Albus arrive.

"Their condition?"

"Unchanged. Albus, what did you find out?"

Albus was delayed from answering by Severus's arrival. Severus nodded at Dumbledore before removing a small cube from his pocket and placing it on the desk. With a subtle wave of his wand, the box enlarged, and Severus began pulling out various healing potions. "What did you discover, Albus?" he asked as he worked.

Dumbledore gave an approving nod at the potions and turned back to Remus. "The spell was designed for Harry. These men had no desire to kill Harry, merely stun him, and yet they knew a traditional stunner would not be effective against him. This spell is a powerful alternative, but to make sure it would work, Mundungus had the three of them cast it at the same time – which tripled it's power."

Remus's mouth dropped open in shock and Severus threw the potion vial he had been holding against the wall, where it shattered with a very unsatisfying tinkle rather than the crash he was craving. "A stunner?" Severus yelled in disbelief. "How's that possible? He's not responding to an Ennervate Charm, Albus."

"No, dear boy, and he won't." Albus sighed and turned back to Draco. He flicked his wand and a chair flew across the room to land under him, just as he sat down. Remus's lips quirked. "Cutting that rather close, weren't you Albus?"

"One day he'll end up on his ass on the floor, Remus," Severus said as he continued to empty the box. "However, should you witness it, I expect you'll be Obliviated, so don't expect to enjoy the comic relief it would provide for too long."

Remus frowned. "So how do you know we haven't seen it happen already, if you think he would Obliviate us afterwards." He watched as Severus's hands stilled inside the box. Then he glanced upward through a curtain of black hair.

"An excellent point," he drawled, giving the Headmaster a piercing look.

"Have your fun while you can, boys. I won't be around forever, you know."

Remus waved him off, disliking the turn of the conversation. "Don't say that, Albus. Now, about the boys…" he trailed off.

"Yes," Albus said quietly. "Indeed." He hoisted himself from his chair and walked over to Harry. Both Remus and Severus watched curiously as he stopped in front of the chair, directly in Harry's line of sight. Harry stared right through him.

"Harry James Potter!" Albus roared. Remus jumped and he heard the clattering of potions vials from the direction of the desk. "Look at me!"

The magic behind the words was so strong, the compulsion to obey so overwhelming that Remus couldn't have taken his eyes off the Headmaster even had he wanted to, which he didn't – he was intensely curious to see what yelling at Harry would accomplish. He had already tried, and it had produced no results.

If there was ever a question of how far Albus's own power outstripped his own, it was summarily answered as Harry blinked once, then again, and then slowly lifted his head to focus on Dumbledore. "Professor?" he asked in a gruff voice. Remus gave a sigh of relief even as he heard Severus gasp in surprise from across the room.

"Harry," Albus said, gently but firmly, "I need you to come back to me. I need you to help me save Draco. Will you do that for me?"

Harry's eyes cleared a bit further. "You can help him?" he asked, hope bleeding into his voice.

"Yes, Harry. But I will require your assistance."

Harry thought on that for a moment, before nodding wearily. Albus stepped away, and Harry tried to rise from the chair, only to stumble as soon as he got to his feet. Remus was there to catch him, and Harry smiled sadly at him. "Sorry, Remy. I just feel so weak."

Remus slid an arm around Harry's waist and guided him over to the couch where Draco lay. "That's not unusual, Harry. You will probably feel weak and disoriented until Draco recovers. You two share everything, after all."

Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"

"For Merlin's sake, Potter," Severus snapped from across the room. "Did you do any research on this bond before you submitted to it?"

"No, Draco did all the research."

Severus snorted. "And you just…" he waved his hand in the air, "went along with it?" Remus smiled at his lover's incredulous tone.

Harry shrugged as he sank to the floor next to Draco. "It was what he wanted," he said as he reached up to brush a loose strand of hair from Draco's face.

"What he—" Severus cut himself off and rolled his eyes, mumbling under his breath. Remus laughed softly.

"Ah, young love. It's beautiful, isn't it, Severus?"

"It's foolhardy, Remus. You are too much the romantic."

Albus joined Harry by Draco's side. "What Remus means, Harry, is that Draco will continue to unconsciously draw on your strength to heal himself. It's one of the main aspects of the bond. He will heal more quickly, true, but you will be weakened while he does so. You can't get something for nothing, you know." Blue eyes twinkled kindly at Harry, but he turned away.

"Oh, believe me, sir. I know," he said quietly.

Although the reference was not lost on anyone, it was not discussed any further. "Let us begin," Albus said, reaching out for Harry's hand with one of his. The other he placed on Draco's chest, and he instructed for Harry to place his free hand on Draco's head. "I will guide us, Harry, you simply follow my lead. How does that sound?"

"Fine," Harry replied, confidence creeping back into his voice. He stared at Draco until he felt Albus squeeze his hand, and when he looked over at the Headmaster, he was calmed by the gentle smile on the old man's face. Albus paused a moment, uncharacteristically unsure, before finally deciding to speak.

"You love him very much, Harry? Yes, it's clear that you do. Then listen, child: never waver from that path. Believe in it no matter what happens. Love such as this does more than fill us with joy and light. It guides us in times of dire need, and helps us to believe in ourselves when we would otherwise not. So, believe in yourself, and believe that we will get him back."

Harry nodded, his eyes full of emotion, but free of tears. "I don't want him to die, sir."

"Neither do I. Let us begin."

Harry opened his eyes when cold water splashed over his feet, and as he did so, a symphony of sound rushed in around him. The waves had grown, and were crashing steadily higher each time they came ashore. The last one had soaked the bottoms of his legs. He tried to turn around, wanting to search for Draco, but a gust of wind caught him, nearly toppling him into the cold frothy water. The sky had darkened to a deep gray, and a cold, driving rain pelted his exposed skin, chilling him even more.

"Draco!" he called, struggling to keep his balance in the rushing water. The next wave came ashore, and he was thrown forward with the force of it. His hands and knees connected with the sand and a wall of frigid water rolled over his back , throwing salty spray into his face. Coughing and sputtering, he made it to his feet, wiping at the glasses that had miraculously stayed on his face. He looked up and gasped when he saw a blurry figure standing on the sand above the water line. The spray coated his glasses again, and the roaring turbulent ocean was deafening, but despite nature's furious attempts to confuse him, Harry knew it was Draco. The figure lifted a hand toward him, and Harry battled inch by agonizing inch through icy water that pulled him incessantly toward the open ocean. Finally, he was able to reach up and grasp the outstretched hand. Draco pulled him the last few feet and they collapsed together on the damp sand. The sky opened up and the light rain that had been falling suddenly became a blinding downpour.

Harry grabbed at Draco, trying to pull him to his feet, but Draco resisted. "What are you doing?" Harry yelled at him. "We have to go!"

Draco yanked Harry back down onto the sand and threw his arms around him. Harry felt warm breath on his ear, and as Draco spoke, the clamorous sound of the storm faded. "I love you," he said right into Harry's ear, and Harry shivered at the sharp contrast between the sweet warmth of Draco's cheek against his and the frigid rain pelting his body. "I've never actually said it, even though I'm sure you know. But I wanted…needed to tell you now."

"Why now?" Harry whispered in desperation against Draco's cheek. "Can't you see we're not safe here? We need to go!"

"It's too late, Harry." Draco pressed his lips to the salty sand-dusted skin right below Harry's ear. "He's here."

Harry emerged from his dream to a loud screeching wail. Startled, he lost his balance and tumbled backward onto the floor. It was only then that he realized that he had been kneeling next to Draco and that Dumbledore was also there, his hands still strategically placed over Draco's body.

The wail was becoming deafening and Harry clamped his hands over his ears as he shuffled forward on his knees to check his lover. When he saw the blond twitch slightly and shift restlessly on the couch, he nearly wept. Relief exploded through him, easing the tension but leaving him weak and bone-weary. With a muffled groan, he struggled to his feet just as the door to the room burst open and Severus strode in. With an inpatient wave of his wand, the high-pitched wailing stopped and Harry tentatively removed his hands from his ears.

"What the hell was that?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

Severus's face was a grim mask. "The wards." He paused before turning to an expectant Dumbledore. "The Dark Lord is here."


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen  
On the Last Day of Our World**

  
  
  


 

Spring was a tricky time. More often than not the air was cold and damp, and only occasionally would Mother Nature give up a warm and sunny day. Today, however, was beautiful, and the manicured grounds surrounding Godric's Hollow buzzed with the drone of bees and other insects. Birds sang and twittered. Tender spring shoots worked their way up from the soil to meet the sun for the first time that year.

Harry allowed himself a brief glimpse around. Why, he thought, had the many dramas of the past five years always played out to beautiful weather? He would have thought the forces responsible for these cosmic events of fate would have had better taste. Where in history, he thought disgustedly, had the hero faced the devil under a bright spring sun? He frowned to himself as he trudged resolutely away from the house, Dumbledore gliding serenely by his side.

"It should be cloudy," he mumbled to himself.

"Yes," the old wizard agreed. "And I don't think some biting wind and freezing rain would be remiss, either." He smiled when Harry gave him an odd look. "I much prefer a battle in the half-light of dusk, where the most innocent of shadows appear sinister. Perhaps some thunder and lightning? Hmmm?"

Harry shook his head, unable to help a reluctant smile. "You're a crazy old man, you know that?"

Dumbledore laughed heartily, and Harry's perspective skewed even further toward the bizarre. Here they were, walking into battle – for their lives as well as for the whole of the wizarding world – and Dumbledore was laughing.

"You're not taking this very seriously," Harry said with a scowl as they navigated through the low boxwood hedge maze, heading steadily closer to where his enemy waited on the rise above the house. Dumbledore's mirth faded.

"I will be whatever you need me to be at this moment, my boy," he said gravely. "I assure you, I am taking this most seriously."

"I'm not going to run anymore," Harry insisted. "I know I'm not at my strongest right now. But I refuse to keep hiding. It's nearly destroyed me, this constant retreating, regrouping…waiting," he spat. "I want it done."

"No matter the consequences?" Dumbledore asked and Harry spared him a sideways glance as they walked.

"I'll never stop second-guessing myself," he began in a whisper as they exited the hedge maze and started through the neglected topiary menagerie. "Always, I'll wonder – am I ready? Can I beat him? Is this the best time? Am I ready to die?"

"Are you?"

Harry sighed. "No."

"All is well, then, Harry. All is well."

Harry huffed in amusement, closed his eyes and shook his head. He was going into battle with one of the most powerful wizards in the world – who just happened to be completely barmy.

Their conversation died a natural death as they walked, and Harry allowed himself one more brief contact with Draco. He kept his mental touch light, not wanting his bondmate to wake. If Draco regained consciousness to find Harry battling Voldemort without him, and Harry did indeed survive the confrontation, there was no guarantee he'd survive the fallout. Draco would kill him. Or at least, make the punishment so brutal, Harry would wish he were dead.

He was worried about Draco's condition, despite Severus and Remus's promise to look after him. But he trusted both of them implicitly, and was relieved when it was decided they would stay behind at the house, fleeing with Draco only if absolutely necessary. When Voldemort had appeared on the edge of the grounds, tripping the wards, there had been a spectacular argument about who would stay and who would go. Both Remus and Severus had been adamant about standing at Harry's side. Perhaps, in hindsight, he should have let them. But each time he considered it, a feeling of…wrongness…came over him, so he adamantly vetoed their participation. The two men in question, however, were not so easily deterred. Remus had actually been donning his battle robes, despite Harry's protests, when Dumbledore had intervened.

"I will go," was all he said.

"Fine," Harry agreed without preamble, eager to have the discussion closed.

So close now, Harry thought. He could actually see Voldemort at the top of the rise, a lone figure at his side. Lucius, no doubt. Harry frowned as he contemplated. Lucius's presence could work to their advantage – if the man had any residual feelings for his son at all. Unfortunately, Harry had no idea how Lucius truly felt about Draco. Taunting him about their relationship may make the situation better, but it may also make it worse.

Harry did not need things to be any worse.

Already, he was handicapped by Draco's continued unwitting drain of his powers. His bondmate was drawing on Harry's strength in order to heal, and since he was unconscious and therefore unable to control the transfer of magic, the bond took what it needed from Harry in order to help Draco, without so much as a 'by your leave.' It was an unfortunate and possible deadly situation, but also out of his control, so Harry dismissed it.

"I will take Lucius, Harry," Dumbledore said conversationally as they drew ever closer to the two dark wizards.

"I rather wanted him for myself," Harry growled.

"I understand, however, that is not the optimal solution."

No, Harry agreed silently. It probably wasn't. Still, he ached to have Lucius suffer for his mistreatment of Draco over the years.

"Fine," he answered in a clipped voice. As they drew to within twenty yards of Voldemort and Lucius, their conversation ended and the battle began.

Dumbledore struck first, throwing a powerful hex toward Voldemort, which Harry understood immediately was a diversion. He followed up the Headmaster's strike by quickly weaving a protective shimmering bubble of protection around both himself and Dumbledore. Voldemort deflected the hex easily, laughing as he did so.

No one spoke. In that respect, their battle lacked the drama of one in which the participants hurled insults at each other, and baited the opposing side with tidbits of their motivations. No one took the time to lecture their enemies on the errors of their beliefs or rehash old arguments. It bespoke the deadly finality of the confrontation.

As predicted, Voldemort initiated a rapid-fire volley of curses designed to penetrate Harry's shield. And as agreed, Harry and Dumbledore slowly fell back as it began to fail. Their goal was to draw the other two inside the anti-apparition wards surrounding the Manor; a move that Harry hoped would prevent Voldemort from disappearing should the battle turn against him.

When a particularly strong curse impacted with the shield, Harry let it fall. Both Voldemort and Lucius grinned triumphantly, letting their guard drop and Harry knew the time had come. Apparently, so did Dumbledore. In a booming voice that had the last of the nearby birds fleeing for the open sky, he cast the Killing Curse toward Lucius. Harry watched it go, torn between Lucius's look of surprise and the glowing green light that hurtled across the grassy field.

Lucius shouted, _"Protego,"_ erecting the shielding spell in time, but the Headmaster's raw unbridled power sliced right through the hastily erected shield and hit Lucius directly in the chest.

"Good riddance," Harry heard Dumbledore mumble as Lucius dropped like a stone onto the spongy grass. Voldemort gave an inhuman cry of rage and was responding even before Lucius fell. He screamed a curse at Dumbledore, one that Harry didn't recognize. Quicker than thought, it struck Dumbledore, who was not even able to raise his wand in defense before he was hit. The old wizard grunted and dropped to his knees and Harry rushed to his side.

"No, Harry. NO!" Dumbledore wheezed as Harry tried to help him. "Do not leave yourself unprotected!"

Too late, Harry realized his mistake. He felt a curse slam into him, knocking him several feet from the Headmaster. He landed hard, feeling something in his ribcage give with a sickening crunch. Groaning, he rolled quickly to his side, searching for Dumbledore. As he watched, stunned, Dumbledore fell gracefully forward and lay still. Harry cried out in denial. One more body, one more life on his conscience. His body was screaming in pain, but he didn't move, hoping to gain a few extra seconds before the next attack.

Horrified, he felt the bond began to pulse, reversing its flow, drawing life-giving energy away from a still weakened Draco and funneling it to Harry. In despair, he knew even Draco's residual strength would not be enough. Unfortunately, the bond could do little more than shuffle what power they had left between them. It could not help it to grow or regenerate.

He watched as Voldemort approached, stupidly irritated at the way the sunlight shone down on him, making his skin glow yellow even as his eyes glowed red. He knew then that he was about to die. It was vastly unfair, and childishly, he ranted and cursed the fates. So many times in his relatively short life he had been stripped of his chances at happiness, and now it was happening again. He was going to die, and so, by association, Draco would perish as well.

Desperation breeds many things. In this case, it gave rise to an idea that Harry acted upon without thinking about twice. Risking the few moments it would take, Harry turned his focus inward to the bond. Praying for Draco to forgive him, Harry focused his energy around the glowing link in his mind – and severed it.

White-hot agony.

He choked as bile rose in his throat, the pain of the snapped bond radiating outwards to every nerve ending in his body. Only to be followed a moment later with an aching emptiness.

Harry gasped at the sensation. He and Draco had been bonded only a matter of days, and yet, he could not fathom how he had ever existed alone. He wondered if Draco would feel this same aching loss, and he suspected he would. But – at least he would be alive. Not dragged down into death unnecessarily by Harry's failure.

Another curse hit him, picking him up and throwing him another several feet. Harry landed on his stomach, almost welcoming the pain that cleared the residual grief from his head. He took a deep painful breath, trying to force more air into his bruised lungs, but all he got for his efforts was a mouthful of loamy dirt. The taste of the soil exploded on his tongue and as if triggered by an invisible connection, the elusive thought sliding around his subconscious coalesced into a clear, viable idea. A chance.

Harry tied to calm his breathing, fighting past the pain he felt every time he inhaled. He let go of his fear of dying, he buried his anguish over the severed bond, and he pushed away his grief at the loss of his friend and mentor. He closed his eyes against the sight of the monster walking toward him, and shut his ears to the evil mocking laughter.

In his mind's eye, Harry pictured the grassy knoll. Resolutely, he ignored the image of the fallen Headmaster, concentrating instead on the old, gnarled trees, the woody underbrush, the flowing grass and the budding flowers. Face down in the dirt, and with blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, he began the incantation. He could do little more than mouth the words, but it must not have mattered, because a few seconds later, small glowing lights began to sparkle all around him.

Harry heard a shuffle and felt a draft blow over his face. Never breaking the rhythm of his words, he opened his eyes to see the hem of Voldemort's robe a few inches away.

"That was piteously easy, boy."

Harry nearly wept in relief when Voldemort spoke. This would not be a quick strike after all – he may yet have a chance. The bastard wanted to listen to himself gloat about his victory. How typical. And how bloody fortunate.

He tuned the distraction out, and focused on the spell. Panting from the exertion of the incantation, as he still could not draw a full breath, he finished the spell in a low, wheezing voice. Like a great, tumbling mass of water, magic streamed from the earth and into Harry. As it filled his body, he condensed it, making room for more. Distantly, as the magic roared through his system, he wondered how much he could take without losing himself. When he had conducted the experiment in the park with Draco, he had accepted a mere fraction of the power he was drawing now, and Draco had been there to ground him. Without his bondmate's presence, Harry felt dangerously close to letting himself go; letting his magic blend with the earth's magic so that when he freed it, he too would be free, splitting into an infinite number of pieces as his soul dissipated and his power was accepted back into the gentle folds of the earth. He prayed for the strength to resist this temptation when the time came.

Harry rolled slowly onto his back. Voldemort grinned down at him from above, looming over him as he cackled. In the split second before Harry invoked the spell, he saw Voldemort's face change; it morphed into stark realization and he raised his wand toward Harry. But by then it was too late.

Harry released the magic.

What had been clamoring to get out was suddenly free and it sprung from Harry in a thick beam of bright, white light. It pierced Voldemort's body and shot off into the sky behind him. Harry watched in dull fascination as light pulsed from the Dark Lord's eyes, mouth and fingertips. Both mindless and omnipotent, the inherent energy of the earth ripped Voldemort's power away, scattering it into millions of pieces and neutralizing its dark taint. The resulting light show was similar to what Harry and Draco had witnessed in the park, only this time the brilliant colors were marred here and there with inky black streaks – the remnants of the Dark Lord. In less than a minute, Voldemort had crumpled to the ground, and his body, now an empty husk, folded in on itself.

As the stream of power emptied from him, the pull to follow it began. Harry screamed in denial, fighting the insistent urge to join his soul with the earth's power. The call was nearly impossible to withstand.

Tapping his renewed magical reserves, which had been boosted when he channeled the earth magic, Harry resisted. He wasn't ready to go. In fact, he had only recently found a reason to stay. He was not ready to relinquish the only true happiness he had ever managed to capture and hold. He fortified his mind against the need to follow, to let go, and closed his ears to the siren call of the earth as it sang to him of eternal peace. Finally, after what seemed like hours, the compulsion faded and Harry slumped back to the ground, panting.

As quiet once again settled over the small hill, the birds returned to the nearby trees, singing as the came, and the insects renewed their droning symphony. The battle was over and life marched on.

They saw him coming up the back steps. He carried his burden past the animal topiaries, through the maze, down the paths of the rose garden until fatigue and grief finally tipped the scales their way and he stumbled. Still, he managed to lower both himself and Dumbledore to the ground almost gracefully, preserving the Headmaster's dignity, even in death.

Remus reached him first, laying a hand to his cheek briefly before bending to Dumbledore. "He's gone," Harry whispered and Remus swallowed heavily before nodding.

"I think he knew it was coming," he answered in the same soft voice.

Severus handled his grief as he handled most things – stoically. He allowed himself one moment, taking Dumbledore's wrinkled hand in both of his and bowing his head, silently respecting the man who had done so much for him and for all wizardkind.

"He killed Lucius…before it happened," Harry added.

A half-smile worked its way onto Severus's face. "Excellent."

Remus turned to Harry, who still had his head bowed low over the fallen wizard. With a shaking hand he tipped Harry's face up to his, brushing away the one tear that had make a track through the grime on his cheek. "Harry?"

"It's done," Harry said, his voice still a whisper. He heard Severus give a deep sigh, and Remus closed his eyes for a moment before once more fixing Harry with an intense stare.

"Harry, we thought…after Draco…" he stumbled through those few words before stuttering to a stop. Harry's eyes widened and he jerked his face away from Remus's hand.

"After Draco what?" he demanded, voice rising.

"Harry."

"After he what?" Harry repeated.

"He collapsed, Harry," Severus answered. "He had regained consciousness and was desperate to find you. We had a difficult time restraining him. He's quite versed in wandless magic, I must say."

"And?" Harry demanded, his voice tight with worry.

"Then, all of a sudden, he…screamed. He was holding his head and screaming and then…he collapsed. We feared the worst," Severus admitted.

Severus's last words never reached Harry's ears. He was up and racing as fast as his injured and exhausted body would allow him. He ran through the house, down the wide halls and into the living room. Draco was lying on the couch, in much the same position Harry had left him, but he was statue still. His chest was barely rising and falling.

Harry dropped to his knees by the couch. "Oh gods, no. Not now. Not NOW! Do you hear me, Malfoy? You can't do this now! We won. It's over. We can…we can go home." His voice broke on the last word, but Draco never stirred. "Are you listening to me, you stubborn, stuck-up little shit?" Harry yelled, taking Draco by the shoulders and shaking him.

"Harry." Strong hands pulled him away and drew him back against a solid chest.

"What happened?" Harry gasped, torn between sinking into the comforting embrace and leaning forward to shake Draco again.

"That's what we would like to know," Severus said, joining Harry and Remus beside the couch. "Can't you feel him through your bond, Harry?"

Cold dread settled into the pit of Harry's stomach. "No. No. I…I severed the bond."

"You what?" Severus roared.

Harry flinched. "I thought I was going to die. I didn't want him to die too," he answered defensively.

Neither Severus nor Remus said anything, and after several moments Harry looked up. He had both of Draco's cold hands grasped in his and his eyes were wary. "What have I done?" he asked Severus.

Severus, white as a ghost and hovering over Draco, said nothing. He eventually looked at Harry, vaguely aware that he had been asked a question, and shook his head. "I don't know, Harry. I've never come across any documentation concerning a broken bond. I was always led to believe, through my own investigations, that such a thing was impossible. As usual, you have turned what preconceptions I have about what is possible and what is not completely upside down." He sighed and softened his voice. "We will just have to wait and see."

"There is much to do in the meantime," Remus added quietly. Severus nodded, but no one moved for quite a long time. Albus Dumbledore's body cooled slowly on a bed at Godric's Hollow just as Voldemort's body, what was left of it, rested on a peaceful grassy hill above the house, under the warm spring sunshine. In the end, it was several hours before anyone in the wizarding world knew that the reign of Voldemort had ended and that, as they had always suspected, they owed their freedom to Harry Potter.

Severus and Remus handled the logistics of the aftermath, and for that Harry was grateful. Draco's condition remained unchanged, and Harry refused to leave his side. He curled up on the floor next to the couch and kept an avid eye on his lover. He watched Draco's chest rise and fall, and as long as it did, Harry maintained a tenuous hold on his emotions. When the first of the official visits began, Severus efficiently moved them upstairs to a bedroom, making sure its window looked out west onto the grounds, rather than to the east, where people had begun to gather on the knoll.

Harry couldn't have cared less about any of it. As the day finally faded, and twilight fell, the last of the Ministry officials left the Hollow. The events of the day had been recorded, at least as well as they could be, considering Harry's refusal to leave Draco's side to speak to anyone. Professor McGonagall arrived from Hogwarts along with a contingent of teachers and took custody of the Headmaster's body. After much whispering and discussion, the memorial was postponed indefinitely, until the situation with Draco resolved itself – one way or another.

Several hours after that, Remus came to Harry.

"Harry," he said gently, placing a hand on the young man's shoulder. "You need to rest. And you have injuries that need to be attended to." His other hand came to rest on the opposite shoulder, but Harry barely registered the gentle squeeze. "Come, Harry. A shower. And let me look you over."

Harry didn't respond. Remus frowned and he darted a glance over his shoulder to Severus who was leaning in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, an unreadable expression on his face. When Remus began to pull him away, however, Harry jerked forward out of his grasp. "Leave me be, Remus," he said, his voice rough.

"You're not helping him, Potter, by wallowing there in your filth and your blood and your guilt," Severus snapped. "Let Remus take care of you." Remus censured his lover with a brief look, before pulling on Harry's shoulders once again, urging him to stand.

"Har—" was all he got out before a loud crack echoed in Remus's ears. He blinked and found he was standing in the hall, with an equally dazed Severus beside him. Remus reached out toward the door, stumbling a bit from the unexpected apparition, and was immediately rebuffed by a powerful locking spell. "Oh, Harry," he whispered quietly.

Severus was emerging from his daze, and, Remus noticed with a cringe, did not look happy. "Did that brat just _apparate_ me? Without my _permission?_ " he growled. Remus could do little but offer a placating smile, and Severus growled again and moved as close to the door as the wards would allow.

"Don't push me, Potter," he shouted. Remus grabbed his arm when Severus looked as though he were about to add something else.

"Leave it. I'll try again in a few hours."

Severus flashed an angry look at Remus, but his eyes softened almost immediately when he noticed his bondmate's worried expression. "Fine," he conceded, pleased when some of the tension lines around Remus's eyes faded. "A few hours. But that is all I will allow. His injuries are more serious than he is letting on, and the past day has been…trying…to say the least. I predict he will literally fall over if left to his own devices much longer.

"Very well," Remus acquiesced and led Severus away from the door and down the hall.

Cloistered inside the room, Harry sighed let his eyes drift shut. He knew Severus's assessment of his condition was accurate and grudgingly decided to allow himself a moment of rest, no more. Exhaustion pulled him under in less than a minute, but as his body relaxed, his hand slipped from Draco's. Even lost in his sleepy haze, Harry registered the loss of contact, and jerked awake. Resolutely, he pushed himself to his feet, determined to stay awake. As soon as he stood however, his vision grayed out and the room tilted.

"Damn," he croaked and sank back into the chair. Taking deep, slow breaths, be lowered his head between his knees, remaining that way until his vision cleared. This had the unfortunate side effect of causing his head to pound, so as soon as he felt able, he straightened in his chair, cringing when the pounding didn't abate.

Sighing in defeat, and never taking his eyes off of Draco, he slipped from the chair and into the bed, snuggling up to his lover as much as his abused body would allow. He found his new reclined position did wonders for his head, but the pressure on his bruised ribs made it difficult to breathe. He ignored the discomfort, and wrapping Draco in his arms, fell into a deep sleep.

The beach was littered with debris. Driftwood and flotsam dotted the now calm water as far as Harry could see. He spun in a tight circle, searching for any clue to Draco's whereabouts, but there was no sign of his wayward lover. Determination in his step, Harry started off down the beach, calling out intermittently. The air was as still as death, as though making up for its previous wild spectacle. The water as well, was calm, barely lapping at the shore. The silence was eerie.

Harry stepped over the smaller pieces of wreckage that has washed ashore during the storm, and walked around the items too large to climb over. This meandering path took time, and soon Harry's patience was wearing thin as his agitation over Draco's absence increased.

He rushed around the tip of yet another small cove, only to be blocked, permanently this time, by a wall of rock, steep and unnavigable. He nearly howled in frustration, and clenched his hands into tight fists, drawing blood from the tender palms with his ragged, broken fingernails.

He fixed his sights on an area near the top of the cliff and apparated. Only, nothing happened. He didn't feel so much as a spark of power from the failed attempt. Before he could process this bit of disturbing information, however, a figure appeared at the top of the rock formation. Harry cried out in relief when he saw it was Draco. Even fifty feet up, he could recognize him easily.

"Draco!" he yelled, noting but dismissing the disquieting echo his voice created.

The figure turned at the sound of Harry's voice and peered over the edge of the small cliff to the beach below. They remained staring at each other for several moments before Draco straightened. Giving Harry one last look, he slowly backed away from the edge – away from Harry.

"Draco!" Harry yelled again. He tried again to apparate and once more screamed in frustration when his efforts yielded no results. He rushed to the base of the cliff, frantically searching for hand and footholds among the smooth rocks, obeying without question his overwhelming urge to reach the top.

The first time, he managed nearly ten feet before his foot slipped on the lichen-infested rocks and he fell. He landed awkwardly, his ankle twisting underneath him at an odd angle, and he grimaced at the sharp pain. He stood immediately and started again. The second time, he barely made it five feet before his weakened ankle gave out and he went sprawling to the wet sand once more. As he lay there, recovering from the fall and staring up the steep face of the rocky outcropping, he witnessed a flurry of movement. Dazed, unable to speak, he watched as Draco once more leaned over the edge and gazed down at Harry. Again, they shared a look that seemed to last forever. Then Draco turned and was gone.

Harry woke feeling achy and disoriented. In his arms, pressed intimately against him, Draco slept on, still trapped in the deep near-death coma the severing of the bond had precipitated. Harry shook off the remnants of the dream and shifted on the bed. He turned himself as best he could, wincing at the sharp pain in his chest, until he was facing Draco.

"Listen, you prat," he said. "I was thinking – when you wake up and we can finally get the hell out of here…why don't we go to that famous hospital you wanted to visit last year. You know the one I mean? In Italy. I know we've been putting it off, and for no good reason really, in my opinion."

Harry reached up and lovingly brushed a lock of silky blond hair out of Draco's eyes. With tentative fingers he traced the lines of Draco's face, talking softly to him the whole time.

"And you were right, by the way. Not about everything – sorry, not even you can be right all the time – but you were right about the earth magic. It _was_ important. Remember you told me it would be? Maybe…maybe you could open your eyes now." Harry cupped Draco's cheek and leaned forward, brushing his mouth softly over Draco's cool dry lips.

Draco didn't move.

"Oh gods, I'm sorry, Dray. I'm so sorry." Harry's voice broke and he clenched his eyes shut. He pulled his lover's unresponsive body closer, and tucked Draco's head against his neck. His lips found their way to Draco's smooth forehead, and Harry pressed kiss after kiss to the pale skin.

"I always screw things up, don't I? You always enjoy telling me so. Did you hear that? A completely uncoerced confession that I'm an idiot. How can you not want to wake up and hear that? Come on, Dray, just open you eyes. Please. Please just open your eyes."

Harry opened his own eyes in encouragement, letting the tears that had been building behind his closed lids spill down his cheeks and onto Draco's face. He didn't bother brushing them away. After a moment, the tears stopped, but his eyes remained staring sightlessly into space.

"How about…" he said in a cajoling voice, "how about if I agree to learn those healing spells you've been wanting me to. I promise I will. I'll make the time. And – I won't…I won't go flying at night anymore. I know it worries you, even if you don't say anything." Harry paused, shifting again in order to bury his face in Draco's soft hair. "That's worth something, isn't it? It's worth waking up for – it is. Please wake up, Dray."

The answering silence ratcheted Harry's anxiety up another notch. His voice became harsh and his grip painfully tight, as though daring Draco to wake and complain. "If you leave me, I swear to God, you fucking bastard, if you leave me, I will be right behind you. Do you hear me? I have nothing left – only you." His throat tightened painfully and his voice became a strangled whisper. "Only you."

His last words echoed through the quiet room as sleep reclaimed him.

Much later, large steady hands plucked him from the bed, shushing him when he protested the removal. "Enough, Potter. You do not have the fortitude to fight me, so do not waste your energy. I have been patient enough, but I will not tolerate any more childish tantrums. You will be seen to. Now."

The low words, delivered by such a familiar voice, and the competent hands that cleansed and healed him, were familiar enough that Harry gave in without much protest. His only moment of panic came when, without warning, his head was tilted back and a potion poured down his throat. "No," he choked, but swallowed helplessly when fingers caressed his throat, urging the potion down.

"It's for the best, Potter. Now – sleep."

Grimly, he fought the potion's effects, determined to remain awake. He didn't want to be separated from Draco, even if that separation constituted nothing more than a healing sleep. But he was too depleted, too tired, and eventually the potion won.

When he next woke, he felt refreshed, but not happy. The fact that he felt so rejuvenated meant he had left Draco alone for far too long. He sat up, hissing through his teeth as his ribs protested, but he noticed they were now neatly bound and bandaged. Also, the dirt was gone from his hands – even the grime under his fingernails had been scrubbed clean. He glanced around the room, quickly spying a clean shirt thrown over a chair at the end of the bed. Grimacing, he snatched it and pulled it on, clenching his teeth when this simple task made his chest burn with pain. He was struggling with the second sleeve when the door opened.

"Potter, you idiot."

Harry snorted, but didn't look up. "That takes care of the insult. I believe you normally berate my extreme foolishness next, if memory serves." When no scathing reply was issued, Harry's movements stilled and his gaze flew to Severus.

"What's happened?"

"Harry…"

"He's dead," Harry said, deciding just blurting out the words would be easier. Easier than trying to think of a polite way to say that Draco was gone. That he had left Harry alone. And that his death had been, ultimately, Harry's fault.

"No, Harry. He's awake."

"What?" Harry gasped. Without waiting for Severus to answer, he pushed past the startled man, and darted into the hall. He looked left and right, momentarily disoriented and unsure of where to go. Then, just as Severus had recovered enough to reach out and grab his arm, Harry saw Remus step out of a room at the end of the hall.

He raced down the hall, ignoring Severus's frantic cry of, "Harry!" and rushed past Remus, twisting away when the older man tried to restrain him. He threw open the door and rushed into the room.

On the bed, Draco jumped, startled by the sudden intrusion, and Harry stopped short. For a moment, they simply stared at each other. Then, shaking off a feeling of dread, Harry started across the room, raising his hand toward his lover.

"Draco," he whispered.

Draco cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. He shied away from Harry's outstretched hand, and crossed his arms in front of him.

"What are you doing here, Potter?" he spat.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen  
Full Circle**

  
  
  


 

Harry recoiled, shocked by the hate in Draco's voice. "What do you mean?" he whispered, his hand still outstretched toward the bed. "I…Severus told me you were awake."

Draco's eyes shifted to look beyond Harry at Severus. When his gaze returned to Harry, his frown had deepened. "Is that all he told you?" he asked quietly.

Harry licked his lips, uncertain as to exactly what was happening. Draco's voice and body language bled hostility, but he was also afraid. Harry knew his lover well enough by now to recognize the signs.

Harry dared to take a step toward the bed, wincing when Draco flinched away. "What's wrong, Dray? Why are you afraid?" Harry asked.

"I'm not afraid, Potter!" Draco snapped. "Didn't they tell you? I can't remember." He continued as Harry's face took on a horrified look. "That's right, Potter. Not a thing. If I am to trust Severus, which even now I'm not sure is a good idea, then apparently I just lost five years of my life."

Harry felt his knees buckle and he took the last step toward the bed, despite Draco's protests, and sat down heavily.

"Get away from me, Potter," Draco snarled, but Harry just looked at him. This had to be another nightmare, and yet it was more realistic and more horrifying than any of his previous dreams. Draco didn't remember? Anything?

His heart was hammering painfully in his chest. Every trial of the past few days paled in comparison to this. He looked up at Draco, but quickly averted his eyes when he saw the burning anger in them – directed at him. Harry wracked his brain for a clue as to what he should say, but it was as though everything in him, with the exception of his racing heart, had ground to a stop. He wasn't even sure he was breathing.

A hand landed on his shoulder and Harry forced his head up to look at Remus. The sympathy in Remus's eyes was nearly worse than the lack of recognition in Draco's. Not that Draco didn't recognize him. But the fact was, Harry now understood, that he no longer _knew_ him. He didn't know Harry. All he saw was Potter, a person who may not have been his enemy, but was certainly not his friend. And who had never been his lover. Or his bonded.

"Will he remember?" Harry asked, willing to trade what was left of his soul for an affirmative answer. Remus's sad look spoke volumes, however, and Harry felt the vestiges of his world crumble around him.

"I would appreciate a little privacy here, Potter," Draco snarled. "I need some time to deal with this."

He heard Severus hiss at the cruelty of the remark, but Harry couldn't find it in himself to be angry. None of this was Draco's fault. He had been forced into leaving this world originally, just as he had been forced into coming back. "Of course," Harry croaked, barely recognizing his own voice. Unsteadily, he rose and left the room without looking back.

He made his way back to the room in which he had awakened, but found, once inside, that he was at a complete loss. It had just been a place to go, where his feet had led him, and yet there was no more for him here than there had been down the hall in the room where Draco was staying.

"Harry?"

Harry turned his head slightly, acknowledging that he had heard Remus, but didn't answer. He heard Remus sigh, and closed his eyes, dreading the speech he knew was coming. He couldn't think right now, certainly not coherently enough to hold an intelligent conversation. And this place – Harry glanced around the room – this house only brought more anguish. He just wanted to leave.

"Harry, he may yet remember. We have no idea. This may just be the shock of the severed bond. He—"

Harry held up his hand. He had yet to turn and face Remus, choosing instead to stare blankly at the floor. "I don't…want to talk about this right now."

"There's still a chance."

Harry snorted humorlessly and walked over to the large window. "When have I ever had a fair shot at anything, Remus?" he asked sadly. The other man didn't answer and Harry sighed. "I'm going to Grimmauld Place. I can't stay here."

He had expected a fight, and was surprised when none seemed to be forthcoming. "Fine," Remus said. "I'll go with you."

Harry finally turned from the window to face Remus. "No. I want to be alone." When Remus opened his mouth to protest, Harry cut him off. "Stay with Severus. I'm sure he's taking Albus's death very hard. He'll need you and…Draco may need you as well." Before he walked past, Harry gave Remus a clumsy one-armed hug, which the older man returned gently, mindful of Harry's recent injuries. As Harry made to brush past him, Remus stopped him.

"I'll be there later."

Harry was tempted to roll his eyes, but strangely couldn't work up the energy for even that simple gesture. "I'm not going to kill myself, Remus. Take as long as you need," he replied in a toneless voice. Remus looked closely at Harry for another moment before nodding once and releasing him.

Harry fled.

Grimmauld Place was quiet, at least for the time being. Dobby informed Harry that the Order would be gathering later that evening in a impromptu celebration to both remember Albus as well as to enjoy the victory they had worked so long for. Harry had patted Dobby on the head and snorted in amusement. It was a lovely little speech, and one the house elf had obviously been practicing since word of Voldemort's defeat had reached him.

Yes, Harry thought. Let them gather and celebrate their victory. He wondered if he should be angry over everyone's sudden willingness to take responsibility for his or her "part" in Voldemort's demise. As soon as this thought crossed his mind he dismissed it, shocked at his own pettiness. He hardly cared, and in fact, welcomed that the spotlight wouldn't be shining squarely on him. It all seemed so trivial now that Harry had lost Draco. He was positive the reality of it had yet to sink in.

When Sirius died in Harry's fifth year, it had taken days for him to realize his godfather was gone for good. For countless hours, he had watched the streets, searching for a large black dog, certain that he would see one if he watched long enough. Eventually time had done its job and Harry had accepted his loss. But for a time, a very scary time, he had hovered dangerously on the brink, seeing Sirius in his dreams. For weeks, Harry kept catching glimpses of him. He was always turning corners just as Harry was, or ducking into shops before Harry could shout his name. When Harry had finally started believing, understanding, that Sirius wasn't coming back, he had stopped seeing him.

He wondered how long it would take him this time. Truthfully, he hoped it would take forever. He didn't want to accept his loss, didn't think he could, and perhaps that was the most terrifying prospect of all.

Harry wandered into the library and fell into one of its many comfortable chairs. Fatigue clawed at him, but he had no desire to sleep. His dreams had been disturbing lately, and frankly right now he preferred the numb oblivion of grief to his subconscious mind's ramblings.

Harry wasn't sure how long he stayed in the library staring at the fire, but was aware of Dobby popping in once or twice to stir up the flames. The second time he appeared, Harry blinked, sure the house elf had just been there a minute ago, but the dying embers of the fire showed evidence to the contrary. Briefly, he considered getting up and doing the things Dobby was coaxing him to do. Shower. Eat. Grieve with his friends. But just thinking of these things made him inexorably tired, so Harry sat back and let himself drift, purposefully ignoring the gaping wound in his mind where the bond had been.

The next time he surfaced, Hermione was there. "Hello, Harry," she said softly. Her smile was sad and there were tears in her eyes. He thought to ask her if she was all right, but the words wouldn't come. After a moment, she spoke again.

"Severus told me what happened, Harry."

"I don't want to talk about it," Harry insisted in a gruff voice.

"Oh, Harry," she sighed and he gritted his teeth in frustration. It's not as though he was speaking in Parseltongue, he thought. Why couldn't she take the hint that he didn't want to discuss this with her. With anyone. But Hermione continued her little speech, apparently oblivious to Harry's agitation. "You have done something incredible, Harry. And everyone is so grateful. Don't shut yourself away from that."

Harry shook his head. She had never understood him. He didn't want people's empty thanks. He never did. He just wanted to be left alone. And for a time, a brief wonderful time, he had been allowed to live his dream. He tried to stop her. "Hermione – don't."

"I'm going to say this Harry," she insisted, lowering herself into a seat opposite him. "I don't think you're looking at this objectively."

Harry finally focused on her words. "I beg your pardon?" he asked, voice dripping with sarcastic disbelief.

"You're not," Hermione said. "Listen, Harry. You…went through something amazing and terrifying and dangerous, being in that place all alone."

"I wasn't alone."

Hermione shook her head. "Just listen. I'm not surprised you…became involved with Draco. You both undoubtedly needed…something…some connection and…." her voice fell away.

"And we had no choice but to turn to each other?" he finished for her and Hermione gave a sigh of relief.

"You understand. Yes. Don't you see—" she began but broke off when Harry started to laugh. She licked her lips, not liking the bitterness she could hear.

When his laughter finally died, Harry leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Actually, Hermione had accomplished something with her mindless chatter. Not what she had come to do, of that he was sure. The truth was he had been sitting in the library for hours, debating about what to do, and all it had taken to cement his decision had been one misguided gesture by a so-called friend.

Still, he did care about Hermione, despite how they had grown apart, and he didn't want to be cruel. "Thanks, Hermione. I appreciate what you're trying to do, but you have no idea what you're talking about."

Hermione bristled a bit at that, and Harry laughed again, pleased he could still push her buttons after all these years. Merlin forbid someone tell Hermione Granger she was wrong about something.

"Harry—"

"He's my life, Hermione. I don't expect you to understand that. But I do expect you to respect it."

Hermione rushed to get her words out. "Harry, there are so many people in the world…."

"Not my world," Harry interrupted.

Hermione sighed but said nothing more, for which Harry was eternally grateful. She watched him for another minute and he met her unwavering stare with his own. Finally, she stood, walked over and bent to kiss his cheek. "We'll be here if you need us," she said. Harry nodded. After another long look, she left.

Some time later, after the house had started to fill up, Severus came to see him. Harry offered him a half-smile that didn't reach his eyes and the other man took a seat in the same chair Hermione had used. For some reason, Harry found this incredibly funny, but smothered the urge to laugh. No need to give Severus the excuse he was looking for to cart Harry off to St. Mungo's.

"Most everyone has arrived," Severus said and Harry nodded.

"I can hear them."

Severus snorted and leaned back in his chair. A companionable silence fell between them, and after a moment Harry realized he would not be holding the same conversation with the Potions Master as he had with Hermione. This man at least, would understand what Harry was going through.

He found that his assumption was correct as Severus's first words had nothing to do with Draco. "The word is that the Minister has stepped down," he began conversationally and Harry couldn't stop a maniacal grin from springing to his face.

"Well, it would be awfully hard to govern when you can't utter a sound," he said with evil glee. Severus's mouth twitched, but he didn't reply. Harry thought of another question that had been bothering him. "How did he know we were there?" he asked Severus. "At Godric's Hollow."

Severus shifted nervously in his chair before glancing up at Harry. "I gave the floo address rather loudly when we left the Ministry. I suppose anyone could have heard," he admitted disgustedly. Harry sighed and waved him off.

"This mess is not your doing, Severus. Events simply conspired against us. Against me," he finished in a whisper. He saw Severus looking at him strangely, obviously bothered by his nonchalance and Harry closed his eyes, searching for the words. He wanted to explain what he was feeling to someone who perhaps had a chance of understanding.

"I can't feel anything," he said quietly. "It's like I'm numb. I can't even work up a tear for that scheming old coot." Nor did he have the energy, he realized, to deal with the group of people beyond the door. He could care less about joining in their celebration. "I would appreciate it if you would lock and ward the doors on your way out," Harry said. "I'm not up for talking, and I don't want to see anyone."

"I think people will understand," Severus assured him. "But…"

"No, Severus. No one."

"Draco wants to see you."

Harry's head shot up, hope blossoming and dying in his heart all in the space of a second. If Draco had remembered, Severus would have said something immediately.

"Why?" he whispered and Severus's heart broke at the crippling despair in that one word.

He watched Harry closely as he answered. "I'm not sure. Would you like me to ask him to wait for another time?"

Harry thought about that. As of right now, his last memory of Draco was the angry dismissal his lover had issued in the bedroom at Godric's Hollow. Harry realized with a flash of fear that he didn't want to remember Draco that way: scared, angry and hostile. Perhaps he should agree to see him. Maybe this last meeting would make for a better memory, even though it would most likely be as heartbreaking as the first.

He leaned forward and buried his head in his hands. "No. I'll see him now. There won't be another time," he mumbled.

"What?" Severus snapped and Harry cursed his slip.

"I said that will be fine," Harry said as he straightened. "I'll see him now."

Severus was watching him suspiciously, and after a moment, Harry averted his eyes. He heard Severus stand and walk to the door, open it and have a hushed conversation with someone else. A moment later, the door closed with a soft click. Harry let his eyes drift shut, wanting more than anything to succumb to the compulsion to sleep, and yet still fearing what nightmares would manifest from his battered emotional state. He began to think that maybe he should wait to see Draco. The pain of losing him was still so fresh, even a hint of it caused his heart to beat erratically and his head to pound. He stayed there, his head resting against the back of the tall chair, his eyes closed, until he felt his body surrendering to the urge to sleep. In a panic, he opened his eyes.

Draco was there.

He was sitting across from Harry in that damned chair everyone seemed to choose, and the sight of him was nearly Harry's undoing.

"Draco," he rasped, wonder leaking into his voice. His hand twitched in his lap, aching to reach across the small space and touch. He wouldn't ask for more, he promised himself. Just one touch would be enough. Enough to carry him through the rest of his days.

"Potter," Draco replied. He looked uncertain for a moment, and Harry fought down another urge to touch him. He needed to remember that this Draco was very much, if not exactly, like the one of five years ago: uncomfortable with any form of comforting gesture. And he surely wouldn't accept any offer of succor from Harry. So he waited, knowing that eventually Draco would speak his mind.

"All right, listen, Potter. I'll make this short since Severus said you wanted to be left alone." Draco sighed and stumbled over his next words and Harry felt his control slip slightly. The numbness was fading and an encompassing, full-blown panic was working its way up his throat. He realized too late that he would not be capable of handling this meeting. He felt his hands start to shake, but ruthlessly squashed the urge to loose his grief and anger. He would let Draco have his say. At the very least, Harry owed him that in exchange for stealing five years of his life.

"I just wanted to say…I'm sorry. Severus told me what happened, and it appears that you and I…" Draco faltered again and another wave of pain ripped through Harry's chest. "You and I were together," Draco finished lamely. He bit his lip and glanced up at Harry, who nodded once. It was all he was currently capable of.

"Well, I guess I just wanted to say…I'm sorry. I'm sorry I don't remember. I know this is probably very upsetting for you."

Upsetting, Harry thought and the pain lanced through his body. Yes, it was that. Draco Malfoy, the master of the understatement. Harry snorted at the insane direction his thoughts were taking, and Draco shot him a strange look.

If Harry had been capable of speech, he would have reassured his ex-lover that he wasn't stark raving mad. But he couldn't speak. If he opened his mouth, the flood of pain would overwhelm him, and most likely scare the hell out of Draco. Harry didn't want to remember Draco being scared of him anymore than he wanted to remember Draco being angry with him. This was better, this civilized conversation with its rational conclusion. He just had to keep it together until the end.

It appeared, however, that this was the end, because Draco was standing and looking down at Harry with a mixture of sadness and confusion. Harry stared back and the moment stretched until Draco reached deep into the pocket of his trousers and pulled something out. He reached out toward Harry with a closed fist and Harry leaned forward, holding out his own hand to accept whatever Draco meant to give him. For a brief moment, during the transfer, their skin touched, and Harry felt the same sizzling in his blood that he always did when Draco touched him.

He fought back the pain that surged forward at their simple contact. So much had changed, but his feelings for Draco were stronger than ever. This is what Harry had wanted. To take this away with him; this electric sensation that made him feel alive. It was what he wanted to remember. He stared at his closed fist for a long time, imagining he could still see Draco's fingers curled around his. When he looked up, Draco was gone.

Slowly, Harry opened his hand. Nestled in his sweaty palm was Draco's amulet. A scrap of parchment was folded up into a tiny square and the chain was wrapped around it. Harry was suddenly transported back to that night all those years ago when he had given his lover the amulet. Draco had been so pleased. Though at the time, Harry assumed Draco was overjoyed at having a way to monitor him. The amulets had served them well over the years, but since Draco had been hit with the stunning spell at the Ministry, Harry's had been hanging lifeless and cold against his chest. He supposed he should have taken that for a hint of the nightmare to come, but there had been little time to reflect.

Harry carefully unwrapped the tiny note, and squinted at Draco's hasty scrawl.

 

> > > _I'm not sure what the significance of this is, but I suspect it is important, because I noticed you were wearing one when you came to my room yesterday. I had to take it off after you left, it became extremely hot and painful. Anyway, that's why the clasp is broken. I ripped it off because it burned so badly. Sorry. I didn't want to simply get rid of it, and thought you might want it. Again, my apologies for all this unpleasantness.  
>  Draco Malfoy_

 

Harry crumpled the note in his palm and dropped it to the floor. He stared at the amulet for a long time, lost in memories. Finally, he turned and started toward the door, stepping over the small note that lay abandoned on the floor.

He managed, with Severus's help, to slip up the stairs undetected. The Potions Master shot him a concerned look when he had left the library, but Harry had smiled encouragingly. The numbness was back, and faking a sense of normalcy was actually quite easy. Once in his room, he slipped his own amulet off and laid it on the dresser next to Draco's. For several seconds, he let his fingers glide over the identical chains and embossed runic symbols, before he lifted his hand slightly and spoke a quiet incantation.

The spell was for Remus and Severus. No one would be able to touch the charmed amulets but the two of them. Harry decided it was fitting that they, another couple bonded in love, should make use of them.

Sighing heavily, Harry took a last glance around the room. Draco's books, his favorites that he had shrunk and brought back with him, were stacked haphazardly on a small table by the window. A few articles of clothing were strewn around, and all in all, the room looked lived in – as though its occupants were only downstairs, enjoying a few Butterbeers. But to Harry, it felt dead. Just as he did.

He flooed directly from his room to Hogsmeade. He had donned a hooded cloak, mainly to protect himself from being recognized. As soon as he stepped out of the fireplace at The Three Broomsticks, however, he realized his precautions had been unnecessary.

The room was packed tightly with people, witches and wizards of every class and station, celebrating the death of Voldemort. The whiskey and the Butterbeer were flowing like water and it seemed everyone was enjoying the overabundance of liquor. The crowd of people, the press of bodies, the loud caterwauling, and the thick smoke, overwhelmed Harry and started his stomach rolling. Hastily, he slipped through the room toward the door, eager for a breath of the cleansing night air.

Unfortunately, he found the area outside no better, as the party had spilled from many establishments and homes directly onto the street. Everywhere he looked, people were laughing, crying, hugging and kissing. Harry let a small wistful smile settle on his face as he lowered his head and pushed through the crowd in the direction of Hogwarts. If he was honest with himself, he would admit that he had often imagined this very scene in his head. When he had been a young student, and still naïve enough to believe his life resembled a Muggle fairly tale, he had dreamed of how this celebration would play out. Imagined how it would feel to have caused such rejoicing.

In the past, such daydreams had always left him giddy and proud. Tonight, however, the celebration was accomplishing nothing but preventing him from reaching his destination. He pressed ahead, finally reaching the relatively unpopulated area on the fringe of town, where the road narrowed before it meandered off into the darkness towards the castle.

From the moment he passed through the wards surrounding the grounds, a fierce anticipation began to build. He found himself walking faster and faster, until he was nearly jogging. He loped up the front steps and slipped into the castle.

Here, the celebration was more subdued. The professors and students were feeling the loss of their Headmaster keenly. The majority of the student body was gathered in the Great Hall, and the conversations within were being conducted in whispers and soft voices rather than with the boisterous irreverence he had seen in Hogsmeade.

He slipped by undetected and made his way to the dungeons. His edginess increased until he reached the locked and warded door of the now infamous storeroom. The magical signature on the door indicated that Albus had indeed tried to gain entry after Harry had locked it, but had been unsuccessful in breaking the wards. Harry smiled fondly. He _would_ miss the old man.

Harry dismantled the wards, although the effort tired him, and he suspected it to be one of many ramifications of the snapped bond. Perhaps in time, his strength would return. But frankly, Harry couldn't care whether it did. He stepped into the room and made his way through the intricate maze without the slightest hesitation.

The Light of Losirin was exactly where he expected to find it, shining brilliantly and bearing remarkable resemblance to a heavenly beacon. And for Harry, that's exactly what it was: his salvation. He never hesitated. With his first genuine smile in days, he stepped into the circle.   
  


* * *

 

 

Six months was a long time to go without speaking. Harry realized this the second the hand descended on his shoulder and he yelped in surprise. His voice sounded so hoarse and gravelly, he barely recognized it.

He was standing on the beach again. Through all his travels, he found himself coming back to his favorite spot more and more often. At first, it had reminded him of his last days with Draco and the disturbing dreams that had plagued him during that time, but soon the soothing peace he had always found there returned. For this reason, he came often, but never stayed long. Somehow, it didn't feel right to remain in a place that had once been theirs and could never be his alone.

Harry wrenched away and spun around. When he saw who had touched him, however, he relaxed. "Oh, it's you."

Draco cocked his head and stared at Harry intently. "Yes, it's me. You don't seem surprised." His voice was quiet and held the slight mocking tone it always did. Harry drank in the image, marveling at how real it seemed. Draco's hair was blowing in the gentle sea breeze and his shoes were covered with sticky sand.

"You look so real," Harry blurted out.

Draco frowned slightly, but moved no closer. "Thank you. I think."

Harry shook his head slowly, unable to tear his gaze from Draco's. "I was wondering when you'd show up," he said quietly.

Draco's frown deepened. "You were expecting me?"

"Well, sure." Harry smiled self-depreciatingly. "I figured eventually I'd go crazy enough that I'd start hallucinating, and sure enough…." Harry waved his hands in the air. "Here you are."

Draco smiled back, but his was laced with worry. "You're not hallucinating, Harry. I'm really here." Draco watched as Harry's smile vanished and his face became a blank mask.

"Why would you say that?" he whispered. "You've never been cruel to me before."

"What do you mean, Harry?" Draco took a step toward Harry and Harry backed up. Draco frowned again but didn't try to advance any farther. "I'm not being cruel. But I am getting angry. Do you have any idea how long I've been looking for you, you idiot?"

Harry wrapped his arms around himself and took another step back. "Don't do this to me," he whispered. Draco clenched his teeth and forced himself to be patient.

"I figured I missed you by two days in Paris. I could almost feel you at our house there. Then nothing for a month. A god damned month! Where were you? We searched everywhere that I thought you might be. We even split up, as nervous as it made Sev, so we'd have less of a chance of missing you. Then here, two months ago. I could still smell you on the fucking sheets! I must have missed you by less than an hour! And then your trail was cold for another month. Where have you been?" Draco knew his voice was rising and he was dangerously close to screaming, but his joy at seeing Harry standing on the sand was quickly fading as his frustration from the last several months peaked. "Can't you stay in one god forsaken place for more than a minute, you imbecile?"

Draco took a step forward again and this time Harry didn't back away. He was still hugging himself, looking at Draco with a mixture of fear and disbelief. "Is it really you, Dray?" he whispered.

Draco's anger dissipated at Harry's obvious distress. "Yes, it's me. That's what I said, didn't I?" He took the final step that separated them and reached out, placing his hands on Harry's arms. "Can't you feel me?"

"I can," Harry breathed, "but I don't believe it."

"It's me. I swear." Draco began a slow soothing rubbing motion over Harry's arms. "I know the last time we saw each other…well, I didn't give you much to hope for. But…I can prove this is real. Look." Draco let go of Harry's arms and pulled a wrinkled note from his pocket. He stared at it for a minute before showing it to Harry, tears forming in his eyes. "I can't believe I said these things to you," he whispered as he looked up. "I'm so sorry."

Harry stared at the note. It was the same one Draco had wrapped around the amulet; the same one Harry had dropped on the floor the night he left. Now, it was torn and wrinkled, close to falling apart. Draco held it out, but Harry didn't reach forward to take it. After a moment, Draco dropped his hand back to his side.

"I have something else for you," Draco said. He stuffed the note back in his pocket and reached up to his neck. It was then that Harry noticed the two chains encircling Draco's throat, visible even under his t-shirt. He caught his breath as Draco unclasped one of the amulets, their amulets, and handed it to Harry. "I can't believe you left these. That you tried to give them away. They're ours, Harry, no one else's."

Harry gingerly took the amulet from Draco, trembling badly as his fingers closed over it. "I gave these to Remus and Severus," he murmured.

"And I took them back." Draco sighed, clearly exasperated. "Why didn't you give me a chance, Harry?"

"Well…" Harry shrugged, "you hated me."

"Never." Draco stepped closer and took the amulet from Harry's hands. "That will never happen, Harry. I've always loved you. Always." He slipped the amulet over Harry's head and smoothed it down over his worn shirt. "That's better." Draco smiled and let his hands slide down to Harry's shoulders. "Do you believe me now?"

"I do," Harry said breathily. Draco's fingers clenched reflexively on Harry's arms.

"I've really missed you," Draco said in a tight voice. "And I was so worried when you weren't where I thought you'd be. You're always getting into trouble."

Harry unclasped his arms and slowly reached out to run his fingers down Draco's cheek. Draco's eyes fluttered shut at the soft contact. "I've missed you, Harry," he repeated.

Harry nodded, but didn't speak. He couldn't. All he could do was touch. He brought his other hand to Draco's face and began tracing the familiar features. Before long, his hands slipped into the silky hair and he reveled in how it felt sliding against his fingers. Draco's hands were not idle either. They traced a similar path over Harry's body, over his face, into his hair and then down his shoulders and over his back. He tugged gently and suddenly they were pressed against each other. Harry gasped and Draco answered him with a soft moan. For Harry, hands were no longer enough. He leaned forward to taste his lover and Draco met him halfway.

Six months of solitude, loneliness and near madness vanished in a heartbeat. They drank each other in, slowly at first, before the repressed passion of their separation crested and they began to devour one another. Harry's body exploded into awareness, tingling from the stimulation and he thrust his tongue deeper into Draco's mouth, needing to rememorize his lover's taste. Draco groaned as Harry started to slide against him, and reluctantly broke the kiss. "Easy," he cajoled, but Harry, deprived of Draco's mouth, simply latched onto his neck. Draco felt his knees go weak, and he knew he needed to either stop Harry right then, or Severus and Remus were going to get quite a show.

"Harry. Stop. Wait. Stop!" Draco finally managed to push Harry away. He ignored the whimper of protest, spun his lover around and pointed up toward the beach house. Two figures stood on the rise, watching them.

Harry's brain finally kicked in, and he squinted at the distant couple. "Is that…?"

"Yes," Draco answered, still breathless. "And I'm not saying they wouldn't appreciate the show, but you've never displayed any exhibitionist tendencies before, so I thought I should warn you."

Harry shook his head in disbelief and turned back to Draco. He cupped the other man's cheek in his hand. "How?"

Draco smiled and mimicked Harry's gesture, placing his own hand on Harry's face and stroking gently over the cheekbone with his thumb. "I'll tell you."


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen  
Reunited**

  
  
  


 

The walk over the beach seemed surreal. Harry knew that the distance from where he stood to the top of the dunes where the house sat was a scant three hundred yards across the wet, spongy sand. Realistically, he and Draco should have been able reach Severus and Remus in a few short minutes.

It seemed to take longer, but Harry relished every moment. Having Draco this close to him again was intoxicating. He felt more alive than he had in months, as if his mind was waking up from a long sleep it had fallen into while he had been alone. They didn't speak to each other, instead letting the simple gestures of old convey what they were feeling. Occasionally, their fingers brushed as they walked. The fleeting contact ignited butterflies in Harry's stomach. It had only been six months since they had seen each other, but his body was responding to Draco the way it had near the beginning of their relationship.

Harry smiled as he remembered those first few months after they had been left alone. Draco's slow wooing had been almost clumsy, as though he had never taken the time to actually learn about anyone before. But to Harry, it had been endearing. Endearing and perfect.

As they crested the last dune and approached Severus and Remus, Harry's face broke out into a huge smile. He broke away from Draco and jogged the last few steps, experiencing another spike of joy when two pairs of arms encircled him.

"I don't believe it," he gasped when they finally released him and he stepped back.

Remus smiled, but Severus grunted in annoyance. "Neither do I, frankly. I thought we were going to be playing cat and mouse with you forever. And I must say, Draco was becoming very difficult to live with. He whines incessantly."

Severus smirked at Draco's indignant, "Hey!"

Harry grinned. "He does." He pulled Draco into his arms when he stepped up to join the group and nuzzled his lover's neck to take away the sting of his words. "But I think it's cute."

"Cute!" Draco exclaimed and the other three men shared a laugh while he bristled. "See if I go running around the globe looking for you again!"

Harry sobered and slipped an arm around Draco's waist. "How long have you been looking?"

Draco sighed and stepped forward into Harry's arms. "Nearly six months," he said. Too long, his mind added. Draco had been confident they would find Harry right away, and when that had proved not to be the case, he had been impossible to console.

Harry's arms slipped around Draco and drew him close, understanding his lover's need to be reassured. He was experiencing the same undeniable urge to touch and hold. He vowed to never let Draco out of his sight again.

Remus smiled fondly at the two and glanced over at Severus. His smile broadened when he saw the undeniable affection on his lover's face for the two younger men. A brisk wind gusted around them, stirring up sand. Remus shivered slightly and Severus was beside him in an instant. Remus batted his hands away, but Severus just scowled and held on stubbornly. "Draco," he said.

Draco glanced over and saw the problem right away. "Let's go in," he told Harry. "Remus is still recovering from a transformation. And then we can tell you what happened. And how I…remembered."

Harry nodded and moved to Remus's side and the werewolf rolled his eyes. "I'm not a child, Harry."

"Uh, no, you're not," Draco agreed, playfully tugging at Remus's graying hair. "That's rather the point. Let's go in."

"Brat," Remus grumbled, but allowed the others to guide him into the house.

Later, after a light meal, which had taken twice as long to prepare since Draco and Harry were attached at the hip, the group settled down onto the comfortable couches in the living room. Night fell with its usual rapidity and Severus ignited a roaring fire in the hearth to compensate for the sudden chill. Outside the large picture window, great masses of stars dotted the sky and a waning gibbous moon illuminated the white sand of the beach. Even through the thick glass, Harry could hear the ocean pounding the shoreline.

It was a soothing setting, overall, made even more perfect by the company, and Harry realized he hadn't felt so at peace in a very long time. Draco curled against him and placed a warm hand on Harry's thigh. Harry removed it immediately. Frowning, Draco put it back. Harry groaned softly and took the wandering hand in his, clasping the fingers tightly. "Stop, Draco," he whispered.

Draco turned his head and let his lips glide over Harry's cheek. "Why?"

Harry's fingers tightened on Draco's and he began moving his thumb in teasing circles over Draco's palm, something he knew drove his lover wild. Draco rewarded him with a breathy moan and a nip on the ear. Harry felt his control slipping; it had been far too long since he had felt Draco's hands on him, his body moving against his. "Gods, Draco," he murmured and turned his head to bring their lips together. Their mouths had barely touched, however, when Harry heard Remus clear his throat. Draco heard too, Harry realized, because he sighed and reluctantly pulled away.

Harry grinned when Draco shot a deadly glare at the smirking man. Remus laughed softly. "Sorry, Draco. But I thought Harry wanted to hear about how we came to be here. And how we found him."

Draco liberated himself from Harry's embrace and moved to the opposite end of couch. He crossed his arms over his chest and pouted. "Make it fast," he snapped.

"You have no self-control," Severus commented airily. Draco's mouth dropped open in astonishment.

"I haven't been going at Remus like a dog in heat every night, Sev. I'm interested to see how your self-control would hold up if you had to go longer than six hours, let alone six months!"

Harry and Remus burst into laughter while the other two glared at each other. A surge of happiness and contentment rushed through Harry. It had been many months since he had laughed. "Enough bickering," he said when his amusement was under control. "I _do_ want to hear."

For a moment, no one spoke, and then Draco rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'll start. It happened like this. Severus was irritated at me for writing you that note, and he threw this major fit, which was truly hilarious. But I decided to forgive him and after discussing it we decided that I should try to direct some of my healing talents on myself. I did. It worked. I remembered. But by that time, you had run off. So – I recruited Severus and Remus here to help me look for you. I figured it would be easier to track you down with more people."

Severus sputtered into his tea and Remus gave Draco a chastising look. Harry turned suspicious eyes on his lover. "Really?"

"Really," Draco insisted as he picked invisible lint from his shirt.

"You manipulative, egotistical, lying, whiny brat!" Severus roared. "You'd still be sitting on your ass if I hadn't—"

"Severus," Remus interrupted, and the Potions Master paused long enough to see Draco struggling not to smile. "I stand by my claim of manipulative," Severus growled.

"And I'll stand by whiny," Harry chimed in. "Just on principle," he added, ducking when Draco took a swipe at his head.

Draco shrugged. "Yes, well, be that as it may…perhaps Remus should tell it. If I let Sev recount anything, it would most likely end up sounding like, 'and then I did this, and then I thought that, and then I saved the day, blah, blah, blah.' Not exactly objective," Draco sniffed.

"But true," Severus hissed.

Harry's eyes were starting to tear he was laughing so hard, and Remus wasn't far behind. "Are they always like this?" Harry asked.

"Oh, yes. It does grow tiresome, though."

"I imagine so," Harry said sympathetically.

"Remus, have pity on me! Tell him so we can go to bed!" Draco said in an agonized voice.

Remus chuckled and shook his head. "All right. It happened like this, Harry…."   
  


* * *

 

 

Draco jumped as the door to the small room he had taken refuge in slammed open. Severus stormed in. When he caught sight of Draco he growled low in his throat and started advancing. Draco paled and scrambled backward across the thick carpet. Lupin had told him that he had spent the last five years with Harry becoming a formidable wizard, but frankly he still felt seventeen years old. And Severus still intimidated him.

"What?" he yelled as Severus grabbed a handful of his shirt and slammed him up against the nearest wall. "Hey," Draco yelped, "I'm still recovering."

Severus didn't answer him. His face was actually purple with rage, Draco noticed, and a vein throbbed at his temple. He didn't speak right away, merely shoved a crumpled piece of parchment in Draco's face.

"What is the meaning of this?" he roared and Draco's eyes darted to the door. He could still hear the sounds of the many people gathered downstairs. He didn't have his wand, true, but he supposed he could bury his pride and yell for help. He was saved from this embarrassing option, fortunately, by Lupin, who appeared a moment later in the doorway.

Draco breathed a sigh of relief. Professor Lupin wouldn't let Severus hurt him. But when Lupin turned and closed the door and then added locking and silencing spells for good measure, Draco gave an audible gulp.

"What?" he repeated, weaker this time.

Severus rattled the note under his nose. "How could you, Draco? How could you be so heartless and cruel?"

Draco was rapidly losing his patience. He reached up with one hand and snatched the parchment from Severus's fingers. "Stop that!" He glanced down at the note and recognized it right away. A flash of shame shot through him, but he resolutely buried it and raised his chin defiantly.

Remus stepped forward. "That was uncalled for, Draco. Had I known you had something like this in mind, I never would have agreed to let you see him."

Draco bristled. "I did nothing wrong." He raised the note in his fist. "I wasn't trying to be…hurtful."

"Well, you sure as hell weren't trying to be helpful," Severus ground out. "Did you stop and think…AT ALL…about how that would come across? Did you once try to put yourself in his place and think about how reading this would make you feel?"

"Since when do you care about how Potter feels?" Draco shot back. "And what else did you want me to do? Add 'Thanks for the fling. You're a great fuck?'"

He was completely unprepared for the blow. Severus's fist shot out so fast, ducking was out of the question. He took the brunt of it to the jaw and the ground rushed up to meet him. It took him a moment to process what had happened. As soon as it did, he stared up at Severus in shock. "You hit me!"

"At least part of your brain appears to be functioning," Remus commented. Draco glared at the two men.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked again, all traces of bravado and pride gone.

Severus heard honest puzzlement in his voice and he sighed. After glaring down at Draco for another moment, he offered him a hand. Draco's eyes darted back and forth between the hand and Severus's face a couple of times before he tentatively accepted the aid. When he was back on his feet, Remus approached him.

"Perhaps you didn't hear me before, Draco. Or, maybe, and more likely, you didn't care about what I was saying. So I will advise you to listen now. You did not spend the last five years of your life engaged in a 'fling,' as you so eloquently put it. I don't know a witch or wizard alive who wouldn't give over the entire contents of their Gringotts vault for a relationship, a bond, such as the one you had with Harry. You didn't just forget the past five years. You've forgotten your life. He. Is. Your. Life. And you are his."

Draco swallowed uncomfortably and his face flamed red with embarrassment. Cursing his weakness, he pulled himself up as tall as he could. "Sorry, Lupin," he said with a sneer. "I don't go in for that emotional crap. Remember?"

Severus stepped back, aligning himself with Remus. His gaze never wavered from Draco, but his anger faded and his face turned sad. "You do now," he said quietly. "Are you willing to deny the person you've become, Draco, simply because it's slipped your mind?"

Draco's breath caught in his throat. "You're not being fair," he said softly. "You said yourself there was nothing you could do to help me remember."

Severus nodded. "That's true."

"But," Remus interjected, "he didn't say there wasn't anything you could do."

Draco stepped back, needing to support himself against the wall, as Remus's words sunk in. He licked his lips nervously. "You mean…I can make myself remember?"

Remus nodded. "I believe so."

Draco shook his head in defeat and dropped his eyes to the floor. "That's insane, Lupin. I'm not a healer." When no response was forthcoming, Draco risked glancing up at the other two men. Strangely enough, they were both smiling at him.

Draco watched the door shut behind Severus and Lupin and gave a huge sigh. As instructed, he relaxed back onto the bed, lay his arms by his sides and took a deep calming breath. It was unnerving that he didn't know how to start, didn't have the slightest clue, truthfully. But Lupin had said to meditate lightly and the knowledge may come to him. Well, wasn't that dandy. And if it didn't? What then? Another confrontation with the Severus and Lupin probably. Better give this his best shot. He didn't want to have to go through that again.

Draco closed his eyes and worked to clear his mind. He didn't expect much to happen, and so was shocked when, as soon as his mind emptied, bits and pieces of memory began to flash in front of his eyes. Slowly, painstakingly, he isolated each one and examined it, taking particular interest in the more intimate ones. He found that focusing on these particular memories resulted in surges of lust and affection, perhaps brought on by this bond Severus kept mentioning.

Draco redoubled his efforts. Despite what he had said to Harry, he was more than just a little curious about what had happened between them. And he had to grudgingly admit that he felt empty inside. Not that he hadn't spent most of his life feeling that way, but this was different. Distinctly different. Draco had never before been so aware of his emotional isolation. As if, before now, he hadn't known what he'd been missing. Cliché, to be sure, and yet it was exactly how he felt. Therefore, if there was even the slightest chance for him to reclaim what he had lost, he would do as Lupin and Severus instructed.

Draco smirked as he lay on the bed with his eyes closed. At least Potter was nice to look at, he thought. He sighed wistfully, and let the images of the two of them fill his head. His mind drifted and the images solidified. He saw a large bed next to a roaring fire. Miles of white cotton and mountains of pillows decorated the bed and framed the two bodies that moved against each other in the center.

Draco gasped as the details sharpened even further. The two bodies, entwined so passionately, were him and Harry. The scene was foreign and yet familiar. Draco tried to move closer, wanting more of the…memory – if that's indeed what it was – but it slipped away. Another replaced it, however, and Draco longed to understand this next one as well. A hundred such memories flashed through his head, and Draco reached for each one, becoming more upset as each vision passed without slowing.

Draco found the rapid flashbacks infinitely more frustrating that traveling through a pensieve. At least in those circumstances, you retained some control, even if you were forced to follow the memory-maker through his dreamscape. But in this case, the images appeared to be random, following no particular order, chronologically or otherwise.

Another memory flitted by, and this time Draco saw an empty beach. It wasn't truly empty, however. He and Harry were running along the seashore, both barefoot in the packed sand. Draco was laughing hysterically as he tried to avoid the other man, who was dripping wet and obviously not happy about it. As Draco watched, his dream-self slowed down and allowed himself to be caught. The two of them went tumbling onto the sand in a tangle of arms and legs, their combined laughter as musical as the gentle pounding of the surf and the crying of the gulls overhead. Draco ached to watch more, but the scene faded, just as the others had.

On the bed in the dark room, a lone tear worked its way out from beneath his closed eyelid and dripped down his cheek. He hadn't been aware he could laugh like that. Frankly, he couldn't remember that he ever had.

Draco sighed shakily, then flinched. A pressure was building up behind his eyes, sending shooting pains through his head. He clenched his teeth against the discomfort and tried to recall what Lupin had told him about his so-called healing powers. Anything he attempted would have to be intuitive, he realized, but his desire to be successful was overpowering. He hoped it would be enough.

He turned his focus to the pain in his head, and gathering his courage, opened himself to his magic. Blinding agony filled him, and he tried to scream. Although he could feel his throat vibrate with the sound of his cry, the deafening rush in his ears made it impossible to hear anything. The memories began to race by and the pressure in his head turned unbearable. He screamed again. Right before he passed out, he thought he heard someone calling his name.

As awareness returned, so did the pain. Draco groaned, begging the gods to put him back to sleep until his hangover abated. That had to be what this was, he thought to himself. This was exactly how he had felt the time Harry had insisted on that ridiculous wine tasting foray in France. There was no doubt in Draco's mind this frightful taste in his mouth and blinding headache were Harry's doing.

"I'm going to get you for this, Harry," he groaned dramatically. "As soon as I can peel my eyes open," he mumbled as an afterthought.

"Draco?"

That was definitely not Harry's voice. Draco stiffened and his eyes flew open. He was instantly sorry. The light in the room was blinding and seemed to burn right through his eyes and into his brain. "Lights," he croaked as he squeezed his eyes shut again. Immediately, the lights were lowered, and Draco risked cracking one eye open. When nothing horrible happened, he forced both eyes to open and focus. Immediately, he wished he hadn't.

Severus and Remus were standing over him, twin looks of concern on their faces.

Events of the last few days came rushing back, joining the newly regained memories of the past five years. "Bloody hell," he whispered.

"Indeed," Severus answered.

"Draco, I insist you sit down. You're really not up to this yet."

"Sod off, Severus."

"Now, Draco," Remus said, his placating tone causing Draco to grind his teeth.

"Get out of my way, Remus. I'm going to find him."

"You shouldn't—"

"Don't tell me what I should and shouldn't do." Draco pushed past the other man and snatched his wand from the table. With quick efficient movements, he had his small pile of belongings, mostly books, shrunk and stuffed in his pockets. He ignored Remus's continued protests and brushed by the other man, stalking out of his bedroom and jogging down the stairs.

"Draco!" Severus yelled from the top of the landing. "You have no idea where to start looking."

"Oh, I have a pretty good idea," Draco shot back. He wanted to throttle Harry for running off so quickly, but knew he had lost the right to be angry and judgmental the moment he had placed that note in his lover's hand. Draco sighed and looked down at the amulets he had clutched in his fist. When he had tried to pick them up off the dresser upstairs, only to be repelled by the new ownership spell Harry had placed on them, he had thrown a spectacular temper tantrum. Remus had immediately removed the spell and handed the amulets over, flinching slightly when Draco had snatched them from his hand with an angry snarl.

"Draco."

Draco rolled his eyes, and didn't answer. But neither did he move closer to the door. Severus descended the last of the steps and approached him cautiously. He stopped in front of Draco and crossed his arms, and Draco steeled himself for a fight. He was, however, wholly unprepared for Severus's next words.

"I believe it would be more prudent for three people to search rather than one. You may think you know where he will go, but the truth is, he is exceedingly upset and not thinking clearly." When Draco looked up, alarm in his eyes, Severus softened his words with a half-smile. "I'm sure he's fine. But the sooner we find him the better. Let us help you."

Draco bit his lip as he considered. Remus, having come down the stairs behind Severus, sensed his hesitation. "Please, Draco. We want to go."

"And leave all this?" Draco asked mockingly, gesturing around the dark, decrepit house.

"Oh, yes," Remus answered softly. When Draco still didn't answer, apparently still unconvinced, Remus reached out and squeezed his shoulder. "We're old men, Draco. We crave a bit of peace – that is all. And there is nothing holding us here any longer."

Draco supposed that was true. The war was over. Dumbledore was gone. And truthfully it would be nice to have companionship, especially while he was looking for Harry. The more he thought about the idea, the more it appealed to him. His frown slowly evolved into a reluctant smile.

"What are we waiting for?" he asked.   
  


* * *

 

 

Harry smiled and nudged Draco with his elbow. "That differs a bit from how you originally told it," he teased. Draco just shrugged.

Severus snorted and gestured lazily with his wand, clearing the remnants of their dessert and tea away. "Of course, I'm sure Remus plans to leave Draco's delicate sensibilities intact and not mention his inappropriate childish behavior when we couldn't find you right away.

"There was nothing inappropriate about being worried, Sev," Draco said petulantly.

"So you don't deny childish?"

"Fuck off," Draco mumbled.

Harry ignored the petty bickering and wrapped his arms around Draco, pulling him closer. "Are we finished for tonight?" he whispered into his ear.

"Hell, yes!" Draco exclaimed. He leapt up and dragged Harry to his feet. "Goodnight," he called to Severus and Remus over his shoulder. "And, by all that's sacred, _please_ do not forget the silencing charms tonight!"

Harry laughed, but held back a moment. He walked over and squatted next to where Remus was leaning tiredly against Severus. "Are you all right, Remus? Undergoing the change here…I can only imagine. How do you know when to expect it?"

Although the question had been directed at Remus, it was Severus that answered. "We have adjusted, Harry," he said, pulling Remus closer against him. "It's not easy. But…the freedom we have found here more than compensates. Do not worry yourself about it now."

Harry watched his friend closely for another moment before nodding.

"Harry!" Draco called impatiently. Remus smiled softly and reached out to pat Harry's knee.

"Off you go, then. Best not keep him waiting forever."

Remus noticed Harry didn't need any additional encouragement. With a parting smile, he rose and moved to Draco's side. Remus watched as Draco grabbed Harry's hand, and with an uncharacteristic shy smile, pulled him down the hall to the bedroom.

Beside him, Severus breathed a sigh of relief. "Finally. Some peace."

Remus shifted against Severus, smiling contentedly when the other man pulled him more fully into his arms. Remus waited until they were nestled closely together to speak. "And now, hopefully, you will see no need to remove my silencing spells every night." He laughed softly as Severus stiffened. "Did you think I didn't notice?"

"Actually, the fact that you did clearly indicates that I'm losing my touch."

Remus twisted his head around. "Why do you feel the need to bait Draco endlessly? It wasn't very kind to rub our…intimacy…in his face all the time."

"I am not kind. And he whines too much."

Remus groaned in defeat and settled himself back in Severus's embrace. "Now who's being the child?" he mumbled.

Severus simply hummed in his throat, neither an affirmative nor a negative, and began to card his fingers through his lover's graying hair. His touch affected Remus as it always did, and soon he pulled away from the roaming fingers. "I believe the boys had the right idea," he said huskily. He extracted himself from Severus's arms and stood. "Shall we?" he asked, offering a hand.

"I thought you'd never ask," his bondmate answered.

Draco's sudden shyness carried into the bedroom. Once the door closed behind them, his eyes darted around the room, looking everywhere but at Harry. He noticed the haphazardly scattered items and shook his head. "It looks like I've been living here instead of you. What happened to your compulsive neatness?"

Harry glanced around as well, then shrugged. "I just…didn't care about it anymore. I mean, there was no one here to see it."

Draco's eyes found Harry's at last. "You were here."

Harry's smile was sad. He started to answer, but after a few stuttering attempts, just closed his mouth and shook his head. All at once, Draco felt his shyness and awkwardness disappear. All he wanted was to be tangled up with his lover in the huge bed that dominated the room. He didn't need Harry to answer him. In his opinion, words had served their purpose earlier in the evening. He found no need for them now.

Draco slid up next to Harry and stood mere inches away, reveling in the warmth of his body, the familiar hitch in his breath, and the telltale darkening of his eyes. Harry appeared equally content with their close proximity for the time being. He merely watched and waited. Draco closed his eyes and purged the worry and the guilt from his mind, both of which had been suffocating him for months. Harry was here with him. They were safe. Free.

Draco couldn't resist any longer. He leaned forward and skimmed his lips over Harry's, and with that simple gesture, the floodgates opened. Harry's arms slid around Draco, pulling their bodies flush. The kiss turned sloppy and needy. Draco's whole body hummed in arousal as their tongues dueled. They stumbled to the bed, pawing mindlessly at each other, ripping ineffectually at recalcitrant clothing until their legs hit the bed and they tipped onto the soft surface.

Draco cursed breathlessly and pushed Harry off of him, much to his lover's chagrin. Draco shushed him with a stare and slid down to the floor. Grasping Harry's jeans around the ankles he yanked, successfully ridding the other man of his clothing, but also unfortunately, pulling him off the bed as a result. Harry landed on top of Draco and they both moaned at the slide of their bodies against one another. Draco rolled Harry over, covering him, and kissed him again. He slid his hands into Harry's dark hair, gripping the strands tightly as he devoured him.

The need was so intense, the compulsion to taste and take so strong, that at first he ignored Harry's efforts to dislodge him. It was only when he broke the kiss, gasping for breath, that he heard Harry whisper a spell. Suddenly, all the strength left his arms and he was being rolled again, back under Harry. They bumped into the rickety night table with a loud thud, and a glass of water wobbled precariously above them before settling back onto the surface.

Draco couldn't get his arms to obey him, and he raised his head to look at Harry, speaking for the first time in minutes. "Want to touch you," he gasped, letting his head fall back to the floor when Harry executed Draco's earlier maneuver and rid his lover of his jeans.

"Want that too. _Finite Incantatum_ ," he choked out and feeling flooded back into Draco's arms. With a groan, he pulled Harry down on top of him and they both cried out at the first skin on skin contact. "Ah, god. Draco…Draco," Harry moaned as he wrapped his arms and legs around his lover and thrust against him.

It was quick and fast, and quite possibly the most satisfying sex of Draco's life. They held nothing back, giving and taking in a complex choreographed dance that was perfect despite their long separation. In a tangle of groping limbs they rolled and bumped the table again, and this time the glass lost the battle to remain upright. It tipped over, raining tepid water down over the edge of the table and onto their heated bodies. As the water spilled between them, it added to the delicious friction their combined sweat had already created. The additional stimulation proved too much, and they came together with complete abandon, noisily, before their cries finally quieted into whispered declarations of love and commitment.

Harry was still clutching Draco to him, enjoying their post orgasmic lethargy, when the door slammed open. They rolled their heads toward the sound but didn't otherwise move. The preservation of their modesty would have involved marshalling some energy, and neither possessed any at that moment.

Severus stood in the doorway, robes gone, shirt half undone and wand in hand. He pointed it menacingly at Draco. "Silencing spells," he spat. He spun to leave but stopped and hissed over his shoulder, "And for God's sake – use the bed!" He slammed the door behind him and Draco burst out laughing.

"Revenge is sweet," he said as he buried his face in Harry's neck.

Harry shook his head, not pretending to understand the nature of their silly rivalry. He climbed to his feet and pulled Draco up with him. He whispered a cleaning spell as they slipped under the blankets.

For the first time in months, the sleepiness that overtook him was the healthy kind, rather than the crushing fatigue of depression. Draco's breath had already evened out, and Harry smiled as he nestled next to him. Idly, he ran his fingers over Draco's chest, unconsciously tracing the symbol of the bonding rune. Deep in his heart, he hoped Draco would want to remake the bond, but it held as many unpleasant memories as it did beautiful ones, and he didn't plan to force the issue.

He was startled, however, when Draco's hand closed over his. Harry stilled his movements, but Draco clasped his fingers tighter and guided their joined hands through the last few lines, completing the symbol.

Harry swallowed and turned his face to Draco's. "The bond. Do you want…."

"Of course I want," Draco answered in a whisper. "As soon as possible." He leaned forward and Harry met him halfway. The kiss was as slow and sweet as the previous ones had been fast and frantic.

Eventually, Harry pulled back and smiled. "There's no rush. We have all the time in the world." Draco nodded as he settled back onto the pillow.

"Yes, we do."


	18. Chapter 18

**Epilogue  
World Without End**

  
  
  


 

Thousands of stars twinkled in the vast blanket of the night sky. The waxing moon illuminated the water as it gently lapped at the shore. Summer's night-song was the buzz of insects, the rustling of the dune grasses, and of course, the constant dull roar of the sea.

Two figures walked with slow purposeful steps toward the edge of the beach. They stopped at the high-tide line, pausing where the sand was still loose, dry and warm from the day's hot sun. Both wore lightweight cloaks, which billowed occasionally when caught by a soft breeze.

One of the figures reached to tie back his shoulder length dark hair while the other carefully spread a blanket over a flat area of sand. He fussed with it until it was spread smoothly, then dropped to his knees in its center. Smiling, he held out his hand. The other joined him, kneeling as well and began to remove items from the pockets of his cloak, placing each on the blanket with painstaking care.

Three candles were joined first by two platinum rings, then by a ceremonial dagger. When all of the items lay on the blanket, both shadowy figures shed their cloaks. The first figure folded them carefully and placed them to the side in the sand. He shivered when the breeze gusted and lifted the fringe of his hair that rested across his forehead.

"Cold?" Draco asked.

"No," Harry answered.

They shared a soft smile, and Draco reached for the first candle. Harry's hand shot out and intercepted Draco's, squeezing the cool fingers when his lover arched a questioning eyebrow.

"Thank you," Harry whispered, "for waiting a few months for this."

Draco squeezed back. "I'd have waited forever, Harry. You should know that."

"I do."

They shared a secret smile, keeping their hands clasped for a moment longer. Draco waited until Harry let go, and then reached for the candles again. He lit them without explanation, but Harry knew their purpose. One for him. One for Draco. One for the united soul they would soon share. After Draco had lit each of them, and charmed them against the wind, he picked up the two rings and handed one to Harry.

"These weren't part of the original ritual," Harry said quietly.

Draco shook his head. "No. Remus told me I could add them. It's all right, isn't it?"

Harry swallowed against a sudden tightening in his throat. "Of course."

"Are you ready?"

"Yes."

Draco began the incantations and Harry closed his eyes, letting his lover's melodic voice wash over him. He repeated the phrases when Draco prompted him, losing himself so deeply in the ritual that he jumped slightly when Draco reached for his hand. He looked up to find Draco staring at him, eyes lit with love.

Harry caught his breath as Draco slipped the ring on his finger. "I love you, Harry," he said, holding the other man's gaze for an endless moment. When he finally sat back, Harry picked up Draco's ring with trembling fingers and slipped it onto his lover's finger, his green eyes holding the gray ones that stared back.

"I love you, too."

No more was spoken. The dagger drew blood from first one and then the other. The bond that had been broken so many months before swelled into place, connecting the two questing souls with an almost audible snap. Harry and Draco fell upon each other, consummating the bond as they had before. Yet this time, they did so without the weight of the world on their shoulders. They reveled in their lovemaking without the threat of darkness. They bonded themselves to each other forever.

And they loved with a purity and depth their old world had not allowed, but that this world, the one they had made their own, cherished and revered.

 

_Fin._


End file.
